Beauty and the Beast
by Sheherazade's Fable
Summary: Inspired by the 90's X-men cartoon episode of the same name. When Carly travels to Jasper, Rhode Island to take place in an experimental prodecure to gain her sight she wasn't expecting the far reaching consequences that her move had on not only her life, but that of Hank McCoy. Canon Pairings.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: _**_After doing "The World United" I wanted to do something that focused on Hank and Carly. As anyone whose ever read any of my stories knows, I always thought that Carly was an underrated character and I was really disappointed to find out that she only ever existed in a single episode of the animated series. I thought it woudl be fun to see her viewed through the First Class lens._

* * *

October 10, 1972

"Here you are."

Carly took a deep breath. Next to her Penny, her guide dog, nudged her with her nose. She reached out and scratched her ears. She wanted to stay in the cab for another few minutes. The train ride to Jasper, Rhode Island from Boston had been several hours long. The taxi ride from the train station had taken an hour as well, and Carly felt as though she had been put through a wringer.

She had never travelled outside of Boston before. Carly had been born, gone to school, and worked in her home city. It had been loud there, with different noises echoing and beating on her eardrums. She had gotten used to that background buzz, and now that it was gone she felt disoriented as well as tired.

Carly sighed and dug into her purse.

"How much do I owe you?" she asked.

"Twenty bucks."

She peeled out the notes, each one of them folded in the corner. Carly wished that they printed braille on the bank notes so she didn't have to fold them. She had been born blind, so at first she had needed her father's help folding the bills and figuring out what was what. Now that that was no longer an option she had taken to drawing out only certain types of bills from banks and then folding them.

Carly handed them to the taxi cab driver.

"Keep the change," she said.

She put her purse back into her suitcase. She closed it and grabbed it with one hand. With the other she took Penny's lead. Carly tightened her grip on her suitcase. It was depressing how everything she'd needed to bring with her could fit into one suitcase, and it wasn't even a big one. Carly had even included Penny's rain jacket for bad weather.

She got out of the cab and closed the doors. Penny pulled her forward and Carly heard the cab leave. She knew that she was at the clinic, but she hesitated. Carly knew that she should go up to the door and enter, or at least knock, but she still felt uncertain. She had come a great ways and gone through a great deal on only a few words.

When she had first heard about the study from a friend it had all seemed too good to be true. She'd made tentative inquiries and found out that, yes, a study was being conducted in Rhode Island to try and give the blind their sight back. It was still in its early stages and Carly had been quick to seize on the opportunity and volunteer.

That had been over a year ago and Carly had waited with bated breath to see if they could move onto the human testing stage. When they had contacted her she had been quick to quit her job and take the first train out. She had felt uncomfortable quitting, but the process was going to take around three months and she knew that they couldn't hold her secretarial position for that long. She could find another job.

It had been hard to leave her family and job behind, but at twenty-four years old Carly wanted to see the world around her. She had gotten used to her lack of vision, but the opportunity to see called out to her and drew her in a way that she couldn't describe. Her father had been worried about her moving so far away, he'd been worried for a great many reasons, but she knew that she could handle it.

Carly took a deep breath and began moving forward. She had only taken a few steps when she heard the door open.

"Carly Crocker?"

She stopped and cocked her head.

"Dr. Baulson?" she asked.

She heard someone laugh.

"That would be me," he said, "You can call me Paul though. Everyone else does."

Carly didn't answer, still feeling uncertain.

"You're here early," Dr. Baulson said, "We weren't expecting you for another hour or so."

"The train ride took less time than I thought," she said.

It had still taken too long though.

"Well, we're glad to have you," he said, "Here, let me take your bag."

Carly handed it to him, once again feeling embarrassed by how small her suitcase was. Dr. Baulson didn't comment on it though.

"Thank you," she said.

"No problem."

She heard the door open again.

"I'll give you a tour," he said.

Carly nodded. She could feel wooden floorboards beneath her feet, and she could hear Penny's claws scrabbling on them. It hadn't been muddy outside, so she was confident that Penny wasn't making a mess. She didn't want to make a bad impression on her first day at the clinic.

Dr. Baulson continued chatting about the different rooms, but there didn't seem to be many people there. Carly had hoped it would be that way. She had arranged it so that she would arrive on a Sunday when it wouldn't be very busy. She had anticipated that she was going to be tired from the train ride, and she didn't feel up to doing to meeting too many people after all of that.

As it was the number of rooms Dr. Baulson was telling her about was confusing enough. Carly wanted to tell him to slow down, but she couldn't find the words. She knew that she should be paying more attention, but she couldn't quite figure it all out. New places were always slightly confusing.

It helped that the clinic she was staying at was a small one though. As she understood it it served a tight-knit community in Jasper, Rhode Island. The nearest full-fledged hospital was five hours away in Providence, and the clinic was privately owned and had been operating for four years.

Dr. Baulson was one of the owners. She hadn't seen hide nor hair of the other one yet, since Dr Baulson had been the one that she had talked to about becoming part of the project.

"This is the elevator."

Carly nodded as she heard the faint ding of the elevator descending. She kept one hand on the wall, trying to memorize the texture. After a moment she took her hand off the wall, satisfied. She would be able to find the elevators again if she ever needed it. The texture got somewhat more granular next to it than it was in the surrounding hallways.

The elevator dinged again. Penny dragged her forward and she walked inside. Carly leaned on the elevator wall. It surprised her that they even had an elevator, but she supposed that it had been something that the clinic had splashed out on as a luxury; even some hospitals didn't have elevators.

It made sense though. A lot of heavy equipment had probably had to be transported up and down the different levels, and she knew that it would be easier on her than taking the stairs. She reached out and traced one of the buttons. Her fingers caught on the braille lettering on the side of the buttons. She couldn't help but smile. They had been ready for her.

"What floor are we going to Dr. Baulson?" she asked.

"And I said that you can call me Paul," Dr. Baulson said, "We're going to be around each other for quite some time."

She could almost hear his smile. Carly smiled back and shifted her feet, unsure of what she should do next. Next to her she heard Penny sit down. Her dog was smart, and she was obviously expecting the conversation to go on for quite some time, or at least long enough for a rest. Carly didn't blame her.

She wasn't sure what to do with his declaration. Carly didn't know how she felt about calling her new doctor by his first name. She had been raised in a conservative household, and she'd only talked to him over the phone twice, once during her interview and once when she had been accepted.

Still, she wasn't going to push it.

"Alright then," Carly said, smiling despite her nerves, "What floor are we going to Paul?"

"We're on our way to the third floor," Paul said, "We've set up an area for you during your time here."

Carly nodded and the elevator doors opened. Penny pulled her forward, following Paul. He knocked on a door and unlocked it.

"Your room should be right here," he said, "This place used to be an apartment complex, so there's a small kitchen and a bathroom attached to it. We got groceries for it so you'd have what you needed on your first night."

She smiled.

"Thank you," she said, "That really helps."

He jiggled the keys. Carly held her hand out and he dropped them onto it.

"There you are," he said, "That's the only pair of keys. We want you to have your privacy."

Carly raised her eyebrows. The list of procedures didn't sound like there would be that much privacy involved. They were going to have to keep a close eye on her to make sure that there were no complications with the procedure. Paul understood and she heard him shuffle his feet.

"As much as possible," he corrected, "We really do appreciate you coming out here."

"I'm excited about being here," Carly said.

"I'm glad to hear that," Paul said, "We'll get started on the treatments sometime next week."

"Next week?" Carly asked.

She hoped she didn't sound too impatient. She'd been hoping for something that day.

"There are just a few preliminary procedures before we get started," he said.

Carly nodded.

"Do you have any questions?" he asked.

She paused, chewing on her lip once.

"Paul," Carly said, "I was just wondering when I was going to meet my other doctor?"

She heard Paul cough. Carly raised her eyebrows.

"Well," Paul said, clearing his throat, "we did go over the waiver on the phone."

Carly thought back to the document that she'd had to sign. It had been printed in braille, and then Paul had gone over it with her over the phone to make sure that she understood it. Her father had read it as well, right after she had. There was no chance of her forgetting about it. It had caused her too much trouble.

"Yes," she said.

"That's good," Paul said, "There have been…incidents, in the past."  
Carly raised her eyebrows.

"Incidents," she said.

"With staff," he said, "And…patients."

"I signed it," Carly said, "although I can't see the reasoning."

She heard Paul shift his feet.

"I'm glad you feel that way," he said, "I really do."

"Is it really a legal requirement that I have to sign that just because one of my doctors will be a mutant?" Carly asked.

It was something that she had been wondering for a while.

"Unfortunately yes," Paul said.

Next to her Penny began making a small gurgling noise in her throat, not quite a growl but not quite a whimper. Carly frowned and knelt down to scratch her ears.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

The voice was soft and apologetic. Carly stopped scratching Penny's ears and got up.

"I guess that answers that question," Paul said.

"Sorry?" Carly asked.

Paul laughed.

"This is Carly Crocker," Paul said, talking to the unknown man.

"I thought so," he said.

Carly put both of her hands in front of her, holding Penny's lead and waiting.

"Carly," Paul said, "This is your other doctor, Hank McCoy."

Carly held out her hand, smiling. She paused when he didn't take it. Carly lowered it, remembering the waiver. Perhaps he didn't like being touched.

"I'm pleased to meet you Dr. McCoy," she said.

"You can call me Hank," Hank said.

"I'm getting a lot of that," Carly said.

Hank laughed for a moment, a strange rumbling sound. Penny gargled again and Carly shifted her lead.

"Well, I'm pleased to meet you as well Ms. Crocker," he said.

"Carly," Carly said.

The day had been strange enough already without her getting a shot at deciding what titles would be used.

"If I'm calling you by your first names, then you're calling me by mine," she said.

"Of course," Hank said, "Carly."


	2. Chapter 2

October 20, 1972

"You can sit down here," Paul said.

Feeling excited Carly sat down on what she assumed was a medical cot. She'd had difficulty sleeping the night before and she stifled a yawn. It had seemed impossible for her to sleep though. She was in a new place, ready to start a procedure that could very well give her her sight.

Both of her doctors had been kind to her. They had talked to her in great length the night before, or at least Paul had. Hank had been withdrawn and fairly quiet compared to his talkative colleague. Nonetheless the night had renewed her confidence in the procedure. Her doctors were capable and knew what they were doing.

If only other people would understand that then everything would be fine.

"Now then," Hank said, "We're going to start with some prep work. There are a few chemicals that will prepare your eyes for the surgery in a few months."

"Alright," she said.

"If, at any time before the surgery, you change your mind," Hank said, "then these chemicals should have no lasting effect on your eyes."

She shook her head.

"Thank you Hank," she said, "but there's no chance that I'm going to change my mind about the procedure."

Carly had already been through too much for that.

"Alright then," Hank said.

She heard footsteps cross over to her.

"If you could remove your sunglasses," Paul said.

Carly did so and put them on the bed next to her.

"This is going to sting," Paul said.

Carly winced when Paul put the eye drops into her eyes. Saying that it stung was an understatement. Carly tried to blink back tears.

"Alright," Paul said, "We'll be doing this about twice a day for the next few weeks, and there will be other types of eye drops."

She wanted to ask if they were as painful as the ones they had just used. A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away.

"It's the best way we know of to make the eyes receptive to the surgery," Paul explained, "We had the highest success rate using these."

Carly nodded and continued blinking.

"I understand," she said.

She began to chew her lip. The stinging was getting sharper.

"How painful is it?" Hank asked, "We tried revising the formula so it would be gentler on eye tissue."

"I'm glad for that," Carly said, "I can't imagine what it was like before."

She resisted the urge to rub at her eyes with her hands. She knew that would only make it worse.

"I'm sorry," Hank said.

She heard him scratch the back of his neck, a deep, almost thick sound.

"Maybe we can readjust the enzyme strands so they aren't so tightly woven together…" he said.

She heard him sigh.

"No, that won't be possible unless we found a new amino acid that reacted properly," he said, "The strands won't be strong enough to hold otherwise, and it would completely throw off the endothermic reaction between the molecules."

Carly tilted her head in the direction Hank's voice was coming from. Paul coughed and shuffled his feet.

"Hank, I think you're confusing her," he said.

"Oh, sorry," Hank said.

His voice sounded embarrassed. Carly laughed.

"No, it's okay," she said.

She shrugged.

"Paul's right Hank, I don't understand what you're saying," Carly said, "I got a 'B' in chemistry and fighting for that grade left me with nervous issues for years. Every now and then I still have nightmares that the periodic table is chasing me."

She heard Hank chuckle. He hadn't laughed often around her, and she wondered if he was one of those people who wasn't comfortable around humor. Then again, she would probably feel a little out of sorts and defensive in a world that required people to sign a waiver before they worked with you.

"But you can discuss these things in front of me you know," she said, "I might not understand, but I'm involved anyway."

"That's an interesting take on things," Hank said.

Carly shrugged.

"It's just how I am," she said.

The stinging went away. Carly felt relieved.

"Now then," Paul said, "You should feel some-"

Carly got to her feet and blood rushed to her head. For a moment she attested something sour in her mouth. She stumbled and she heard Penny bark from the doorway. At the last minute she put her hand out onto the cot that she had just sat down on, allowing her to stay on her feet for another moment.

A hand was laid on her shoulder. For a moment she wondered whose it was, but she quickly decided that it was Paul's. Hank's voice was far too deep for a hand that was so small, but she figured that Paul's was around the right size. She allowed him to help her back down into a sitting position.

"-disorientation," Paul said.

"Sorry," Carly said.

"No need to be sorry," Paul said, "I should have told you beforehand."

Carly closed her eyes.

"No problem," she said, "How long do I have to wait before I can get back up?"

"I'm not sure," Paul said, "The mice showed signs of disorientation for about twenty minutes afterwards, but those were mice."

"So we're looking at about twenty minutes," Carly said.

"At least," Hank said.

She rubbed her temples.

"I should have brought a book," Carly said.

"I can get something for you, if you'd like," Hank said.

Carly smiled at the earnest note in his voice.

"You don't have to," she said.

"No," he said, "You shouldn't be put to any discomfort because of the procedure. "

"Thank you for your concern," she said, "But it's alright."

She picked up her sunglasses and put them back on. Across from her she heard a small beeping noise. Paul shuffled and sighed.

"I'm getting paged," he said, "It's probably Mrs. Robertson again."

"All yours," Hank said.

"Why do I get all the problem patients?" Paul said.

"You tell me," Hank said.

She heard Paul replace his pager.

"I'll be back once I'm done with the appointment," he said.

"I'll be here," Carly said.

The door opened and she heard Paul step outside.

"I hope we're not making you uncomfortable with all of this talk about our work," Hank said, "Paul only has jokes about the patients that he's fond of."

"I take it he's from around here?" Carly asked.

"Born and raised apparently," Hank said, "He went off to medical school and came back to set up a clinic. Lord knows that they need it down here. The closest hospital isn't exactly close."

She heard him put down the vial with the eye drops in it.

"I know," Carly said.

"It's not really a poor area," Hank said, "But it's not a rich one either. It's in the middle of nowhere and he had to build the practice from the ground up."

"I thought you were involved in that too," Carly said.

A chair creaked as Hank sat down.

"Well, yes," he said, "I met Paul at school and…well, it sounded like an intriguing idea, and rather less stressful than what I had been doing before. I thought it would give me a chance to work on my research."

Carly frowned.

"What were you doing before this?" she asked.

Hank hesitated.

"I suppose you could say that I was an emergency room doctor," he said.

"A surgeon?" Carly asked.

She couldn't help but be impressed.

"A little bit of everything," Hank said, "But well, I hadn't wanted to stay in one place all my life, so when the…facility I was working at built up its medical staff a bit more I thought I would assist a bit at a medical school in New York."

She rested her chin on her hand.

"Wait a minute," she said, "Aren't you the same age as Paul?"

"I'm a year older," Hank said.

He sounded embarrassed. She did the math in her head, but since she didn't know their exact ages she knew that she would be off.

"How old were you when you graduated college?" she asked, "Eighteen?"

"Fifteen," Hank mumbled.

Carly blinked, trying to think of something to say. She must have come off as sounding ignorant. Carly wished she had done a bit more research before she got into the project. She didn't know that she would be operated on by what she could only think of as a child prodigy. From the way he talked about it he was a modest one too.

Luckily someone bumped into the door.

"Right this way Mrs. Robertson," Paul said.

"I know, I know!"

The door closed, but not before a faint scent wafted in. Carly wrinkled her nose and cocked her head. Now she had a way to change the conversation.

"Mrs. Robertson," Carly said, "does she wear rose perfume?"

"Yes," Hank said.

She rubbed her nose. She hadn't expected Hank to notice it too, but the scent might have been stronger than she'd thought.

"I didn't think you'd be able to smell it though," Hank said.

She shrugged.

"We had rose bushes where I grew up," she said, "A lot. And then there was this one part down the way that my father used to take me to play in. I'm quite acquainted with the scent."

She smiled.

"First thing first after the surgery," she said, "I'm buying a dozen roses."

"Oh?" asked Hank.

Carly nodded.

"I want to see what they look like. Ever since I was little," she said, "They feel so layered and soft and…"

She searched for words.

"Everyone says things like red as a rose or rose red but I can't quite…" Carly said, "Well, obviously I don't know what that means."

Carly wondered if her tone was self-pitying. She hoped that Hank didn't think it was, because that wasn't what she was trying to do.

"They just seem special," Carly said, "Out of all flowers they're the only ones that feel a certain way, and I've heard that they're different colors, but they all feel almost exactly the same. And a lot of flowers have an overwhelming perfume, but they don't really have a scent, you know?"

She leaned back.

"But there's this kind of sweetness that you just can't put your finger on," she said, "It's so faint but…it's special."

There was a silence and Carly blushed.

"Sorry," she said, "that must have sounded pretty weird."

"No," Hank said.

His voice was quiet.

"It's just…" he said, "You do know that you're the first human test subject, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Carly said.

"I'm just…I'm just saying that this might not work," Hank said, "It should…but…"

His voice was miserable. Carly smiled.

"Hey," she said, "I'm willing to take that risk."

She broadened her smile.

"Besides, you said you were confident," she said, "I think I'll trust the bona-fide genius."

From across the room she heard Hank chuckle.

"Why thank you," he said.


	3. Chapter 3

October 31, 1972

Hank flipped on his record player and sat down at his desk. The record player had been a going away present from Alex. In the time he'd had it he'd come to appreciate it. Alex had told him he didn't think that he'd listen to anything interesting on it, and he supposed that, from Alex's point of view, the fact that he'd stocked his record shelves with classical music proved him right.

Hank shook his head and leaned back in his chair. There was a picture on his desk, taken the year that Alex and Sean had graduated the high school levels in the Institute. Hank had been there, although his diploma had been gathering dust in a trunk in his lab for several years and he'd been teaching a few classes at the Institute.

Charles was in it too, beaming with pride at his first class. As Hank had understood it Alex had been on the fast track to flunking out before he came, and Sean had considered dropping out to work in a mechanic shop down the road. Instead they had finished high school and made plans for college.

There were a few other pictures in his office. He knew that some of his coworkers had pictures of their families, their mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, and in a way he did too. He might not have any biological siblings, and his parents had stopped talking to him a long time ago, but he'd found family at the Institute.

Only his favorite pictures had made it onto his desk. Any embarrassing ones had made it into a photo album that he kept at his house. There was one particular picture that he was thinking of. It had been when they had attempted to get the Blackbird into the hanger that he'd constructed under the new school's basketball court.

The Institute hadn't opened yet, but people would notice a large plane flying over the school. Hank had gone through great lengths to use a cloaking device, although he knew that the battery on the device was poor and could only be used in extreme emergencies. He'd used it for the first time that night.

It had thrown him off and he'd almost crashed. Alex had been taking some rather bad pictures of the event, and it had been decided that he shouldn't be allowed near a camera afterwards. The pictures had only been worse since that was the night that Moira had returned to the Institute, giving no warning. He still had the picture of the fight she'd gotten into with Charles.

He knew that it wasn't the best thing to feel nostalgic about, but it was hard to feel anything but nostalgia when it came to the school in Westchester. The Institute had been good to him but, as he'd told Carly, they hadn't really needed him anymore. It had been more than that though; he'd been hiding himself away in the Institute for far too long. The idea of venturing out had been scary, but it had helped to know that there was always a home for him to return to if he needed it.

When Paul had suggested opening the clinic Hank had jumped on the opportunity. He'd hoped to conduct some research that had nothing to do with military applications. Although he believed in the X-men's mission, he couldn't say that he was comfortable with making weapons for several years.

He pulled his paperwork closer to him. The staff had already left for the night. Hank would have gone home too, but there was still work to be done. Paul had gone out that night with some friends to a Halloween party. He'd invited Hank, but Hank had declined. He'd never been very fond of Halloween even before his skin had sprouted blue fur and his eyes had turned yellow. Dressing up for a party just seemed rather forced.

Hank recorded that they had administered the eye drops to Carly twice that day, just like they had for every day since she came to the clinic. They were going to start using their second compound soon. There wasn't much to write in notes, since it still stung but it seemed, from their examinations, that the tissues were not retaining any damage.

He made a few markings before putting the paper into Carly's file. He was looking forward to the operation. In practical terms the surgery would be groundbreaking. Hank couldn't help but feel excited at the possibility of successfully testing a process that he had helped create. The surgery had no military applications, and he was finally getting back to what he had always wanted to do; heal people.

Not that there hadn't been plenty of that at the Institute, but it had been more along the lines of making sure that limbs didn't fall off and bones were set properly. Infection had been a problem with some of the younger members, since many of them thought that they were too tough to get what they saw as a 'minor' injury stitched and cleaned, so they'd stayed quiet about their injuries. The first time that one of them had nearly lost their arm to gangrene had changed their mind.

On a less practical level he was also excited for Carly. The human element in his procedures often couldn't be factored in. In many of his operations he'd had to distance himself from the patient so he could save their lives, since he was often forced to operate without anesthesia. There were too many times in his memory where Alex had been on the operating table, his face pale and his teeth grinding together, his hands clenching the sides of the table as Hank picked out shrapnel.

He shook his head again and closed his eyes. The strains of the music washed over him and allowed him to relax. The human element was not only factored into his new procedure, but it played a major part in it. He hadn't expected Carly to be such a good conversationalist, but he'd hoped that he would be able to know his patient.

There had been several incidents when he'd first come to Jasper. He knew that most of the community had never seen a mutant before, and Hank was very noticeably a mutant. Hank knew that Paul'd had more than one fight with town residents and their own staff on his behalf. Even then he knew that one of the only things that had allowed him to stay was Paul's reputation as the golden Baulson boy whose forefathers had lived in the town since it had been founded.

The fact that Rhode Island still required a waiver made him uncomfortable. It wasn't as good as New York, where Hank had only had to sign some clauses in his contract. That had made him uncomfortable too, but he didn't have to have legal permission from every patient before he treated them. However, he knew that the further someone got from New York the harder it was to get a job as a self-proclaimed mutant.

He knew that he should probably tell Carly something about the nature of his mutation. In a few months she would be able to see that her doctor was more than just a little strange looking. He wondered if she just thought that his mutation was that he was very smart. He still felt embarrassed about bragging about his own intelligence.

Still, he was trying to make sure that she was comfortable. If that meant not touching her so she didn't realize that her doctor had claws then he was fine with that. If he administered the eye drops correctly then he would never come into contact with her skin. The only time he would touch her was when she went under for the surgery.

He rocked back in his chair further.

"Shostakovich."

Hank fell backwards in his chair, knocking over a lamp next to his typewriter. He managed to catch himself at the last minute, his old instincts from his days at the Institute coming to his rescue. His foot reached out and grabbed the lamp, stopping it before it shattered on the ground.

He blinked and looked over at the doorway where Carly stood, Penny next to her. She had one hand extended, as though trying to help him from falling but uncertain of his location.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Fine," he said, feeling clumsy, "Just a little startled."

"I'm sorry," Carly said, "I know you're busy and I-"

"No no," he said, "It's alright."

He brushed himself off, feeling embarrassed. Hank tried to muster up his professional dignity, although he realized just how close he'd been to making a mess of his office. He put the lamp back in its place and adjusted his chair, straightening his glasses and resting his elbows on his desk.

"Is there something you need?" he asked.

"Not really," Carly said.

She tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. He had often tried to figure out just what color her hair was. It was a curious mixture of brown and blonde, but it was too dark to be dirty blonde and not red enough to be auburn. She'd grown it out and it curled in soft waves past her shoulders.

Not that he'd paid too much attention to something like that.

"I just heard the music," she said, feeling around for one of the chairs that stood in front of his desk and sitting down in it, "Not many people play Shostakovich. Not with…everything that's been happening with Russia."

Hank laughed.

"It's not the sixties anymore," he said.

"The sixties weren't that long ago. We weren't exactly children when the Cuban Missile Crisis happened," Carly said.

Hank coughed.

"Well, we can't allow our own prejudices to stop us from listening to good music," he said, "I can't say that I support any of their political policies, but banning music seems like a crime. Their culture isn't going to influence us to be socialists."

He frowned, thinking of the stories of a few of their foreign students at the Institute.

"They think otherwise. I hear that you're not even allowed to wear jeans behind the iron curtain," he said.

"I heard that too," Carly said, "It always seemed excessive."

Hank nodded.

"Besides," he said, "Music is perhaps the purest expression of the human soul. It's why I was able, with some effort, to track this song down."

He put his hand on the record player.

"Although I am surprised that you recognized it," he said.

She shrugged.

"It's Symphony Number one in F minor, right?" she asked.

"Yes," Hank said.

Carly smiled.

"My parents had a ton of old records upstairs that they could never be bothered to get rid of," she said, "I always enjoyed listening to music. I learned to play the piano a few years back. It wasn't easy, but I learned."

She smiled and Hank could tell that she was remembering something pleasant, just like his memories of the Institute.

"My father got a record player for me when I was young, a birthday present," she said, "I would spend ages in my room just listening to it."

Hank cocked his head.

"Did something happen to it?" he asked.

Carly frowned.

"Sorry?" she asked.

He felt embarressed but continued.

"I didn't see you bring one with you," he said, feeling awkward, "So I wondered if something happened to it."

He thought he saw her wince behind her sunglasses.

"It…broke shortly before I came here," she said, "I didn't know how to fix it, and there really wasn't time to get another one."

Hank knew there was more to the story, but he didn't see the point in pressuring her.

"I thought you'd be out, it being Halloween," he said, "I can't imagine Paul not inviting you to the party."

"He did," she said.

"And you declined," he said, "Either that or you're running very late."

Carly leaned back in her chair.

"No, I declined. As for the why, I don't know," she said "It's been so quiet around lately. I'm not used to that and…it's kind of nice truth be told."

She shrugged.

"I didn't see the point in shattering it in a place that was going to be loud and filled with people," she said.

Penny gave a small bark, curling up next to her mistress. Carly reached down and scratched her dog's ears.

"Besides," she said, "I didn't want to rot my teeth with too much candy."

"I think that the only candy they would have there would be liquid and alcoholic," Hank said.

Carly snorted with laughter and Hank grinned.

"True," she said, "I was never one for wild parties."

She smiled.

"There just seemed to be more to life, you know what I mean?" she asked.

Hank nodded.

"I do," he said.


	4. Chapter 4

November 15, 1972

"I'm just saying that I'm not such a fan of Shakespeare's tragedies," Carly said, "I'm going to be honest; I didn't really like _Hamlet_."

She heard a few vials clink together.

"I am deeply shocked," he said.

"You shouldn't be," Carly said.

"But I am," Hank said.

Carly grinned. She was glad that Paul had another patient that he had to attend to. She had no idea what he would make of their rambling conversations otherwise. Carly had known that it was probably a mistake to get Hank started on Shakespeare, but she'd never had such long conversations with anyone about music or literature before.

She had to admit that she enjoyed Hank's company. He was a kind person, even though he had a tendency to stand on the other side of the room, and he had the most interesting stories. Carly had never been to New York and Hank was full of stories about the theaters and the traffic, like her home in Boston only more so.

Unlike her, he was widely travelled. He'd told her that he'd been born in Illinois, but he'd lived in New York for several years and travelled to different countries. Carly had always enjoyed learning about other countries, and it was fascinating to hear stories from someone who had actually been there.

There were times where, in his presence, Carly felt almost small. Hank had travelled the world and lived what sounded like a full life. Carly had lived in Boston and never ventured out of the city's limits. Carly had always believed that she was too busy to travel, that there would be time in the future.

Hank had never stalled like that. She felt envious of him in a way, of all the things that he had done and seen.

"Are you just fond of the play because you've seen it in The Globe?" Carly asked.

"I never said that I saw it in The Globe," Hank said.

His voice was mock-defensive. She laughed.

"But let me guess," she said, "You did, didn't you?"

"I did," Hank said.

She shook her head.

"One of these days you are going to have to tell me all about your other job," she said, "I didn't think that the same job allowed people to travel to South America and Europe."

He had been rather vague on the details of his last position. She supposed it was part of his natural modesty, but she also had the feeling it was part of something rather important.

"Perhaps," he said.

His voice was playful.

"Perhaps you didn't like it because you've never heard it acted out," Hank said.

She noted the way he said 'heard.' It wasn't as though she could have seen it. He knew that she had been born blind, and she was grateful for the fact that he said 'heard' without having to think about it. There were no awkward pauses in his speech pattern that showed that he was making a conscious effort to be correct.

"I don't see how that would make much of a difference," Carly said.

"Shakespeare wasn't meant to be read," Hank said.

She rolled her eyes.

"Now you sound like my English teacher," she said, "I never said that I didn't like his writing or his works."

"Except his tragedies," Hank said.

Carly couldn't help but smile. She remembered how wary Hank had been around her in her first few days. Now that the wariness was gone Carly couldn't help but enjoy his company.

"I'm just saying that _Hamlet_, and his other tragedies, aren't exactly my cup of tea," Carly said.

"You don't drink tea," Hank said, "Which is another thing, by the way, that you need to give a try."

"I'll stick to coffee, thanks," Carly said.

The burning in her eyes receded, but she stayed seated.

"The burning's gone," she said.

"Perfect," Hank said.

She heard him make a note on that.

"I just don't like his tragedies," Carly said.

"And I think that you need to reconsider that," Hank said.

"And I think that you need to give his comedies more credit," Carly said.

She heard Hank rearrange the vials again.

"I'm not criticizing them," he said, "I just think that his tragedies are more poignant. That's all."

She cocked her head.

"So what's your defense?" she asked.

"My defense?" he asked.

"Of Shakespeare's tragedies," Carly said.

"Tilt your head back and open your eyes and I'll tell you; we need to do the second set of eye drops," he said, "As stimulating as this conversation is, we did actually walk in here for a reason."

Carly sighed and did so. She felt the burning liquid enter her eyes and had to fight to keep from wincing.

"It still burns?" Hank asked.

"Yes," Carly said.

"It should end soon," Hank said, "The lab rats stopped showing signs of irritation around this point."

His voice sounded troubled, but Carly couldn't find it in her to worry. She knew that Hank worried over each and every detail. It was nice to know that someone was looking out for her, trying to make things work. As invested as she was in the project if something went wrong then she couldn't do anything.

Carly knew that she was in a vulnerable position. All she could do was hope that the chemicals and the procedure worked. Her future wasn't in her own hands anymore, and it was an uncomfortable feeling. If she had to cede control over her future to anyone though, she was glad that it was Hank.

Hank and Paul. She couldn't forget Paul.

"It's alright," Carly said, "I'm probably just being sensitive."

Hank didn't respond and she heard him write her words down. Carly swung her legs.

"So?" she asked.

"So?" Hank asked.

"Shakespeare," Carly said.

"Oh, yes, Shakespeare," Hank said.

He cleared his throat.

"I have to admit that you have a point," he said, "We need the tragedies in our lives to make the comedies more poignant."

Carly put her sunglasses back on.

"I still can't say that I agree with you," she said, "I just feel that we make too big a deal of tragedies because we think that they're deep."

"They are though, aren't they?" Hank asked.

Carly hesitated. The question wasn't mocking or patronizing. She knew that Hank was smarter than her, his IQ was probably miles away from hers. However, she liked to think that their conversations were on an even level, perhaps because he hadn't run into many people who had the same interests as him.

So she thought about her answer carefully before speaking.

"I think that we have enough tragedies in our lives without obsessing with ones that didn't even happen," she said, "If we try to escape into some sort of false tragedy to ennoble our own sufferings or make our own tragedies seem less scarring then we're just running from how things really are."

She gripped the edge of the table. Carly knew that she should probably not elaborate on her feelings on the subject. However, she knew that she should see it through. She had been the one to make the comment. Besides, it was Hank. If it was anyone else it would have felt wrong, but somehow her fast-forming friendship with her doctor seemed to make it right somehow.

"If we're hiding from everything in all of these made-up tragedies that everyone says are wonderful," she said, "then we aren't dealing with our own problems. We're not accepting life for what it is."

Carly released the edge of the table. She knew that her own personal philosophy on pain hadn't served to make her happy, but at least she was dealing with things.

"We can't ignore our realities in favor of fiction," Carly said.

There was a pause. Carly bit the inside of her cheek, hoping that she hadn't said too much.

"Well said," Hank said.

She waited, wondering if he was going to say anything else.

"And?" she asked after a while.

"No and," Hank said, "It was well said. And, in my own way, I suppose that I agree with you."

"But there's part of you that doesn't," Carly said.

She heard him tap on the counter. He must have grown his fingernails out, because the clicking noise seemed sharp somehow.

"There is a level of escapism in all fiction," Hank said, "But I think that that's why people want fiction in the first place."

"I'm not saying that escapism in and of itself is wrong," Carly said, "I'm just-"

"I understand," Hank said.

His voice sounded a little strained. Carly wondered if she had somehow managed to talk him into an uncomfortable situation. She bit the inside of her cheek again. She had thought that she was only putting her own feelings on the table when she began the discussion. Apparently she was opening some wounds for Hank as well.

She wished she could take her words back.

"But I think that fiction allows us to voice our pain in ways that might be too raw if we just came out and said it," Hank said, "I'm not sure how Shakespeare felt about his father, probably not too badly, but you just need to look outside to see pain."

He paused. She wondered if he was searching for words just like she had.

"I believe that writing things like that down is a way for the world to notice pain and open its eyes to it in a way that it would be impossible if we just told them," Hank said, "It's why we need to take a closer look at these things, so that it never really happens in real life."

She heard him sigh.

"And in a way, each time we open a book we are reminded of our own pain," Hank said, "It can be complete escapism by some, but it doesn't need to be that way. In some way it's tuning you in to pain even more."

A strange silence descended over the two of them. Carly took a deep breath, but remained silent, unwilling to break the silence. It was like a thick blanket coating the two of them. Carly wished she could reach out to him, comfort him, but she knew that he was on the other end of the room. He didn't like to be touched and she could respect that.

She wished that she could comfort him in some other way though. Carly ached to be able to do something for him, even if she didn't know the nature of his pain. He had done so much for her, but she was getting the strange feeling that what she was experiencing was more than that.

"You're very brave."

She could hear him shift and she ducked her head.

"If you believe that," Carly said, "and you think it's all a call action, and you're willing to face all of that, then you're very brave."

Hank cleared his throat.

"I'm flattered," he said, "but…"

"No buts," Carly said.

She heard him clear his throat again.

"Well," he said, "you really do know just what to say Carly."

She smiled, feeling shy and uncertain.

"I try," she said.

"That's a kind of bravery in and of itself," he said.

Another silence hung over the room. Carly tilted her head, wondering just what she should say next. There was a slight noise as Hank picked something up.

"Has the burning gone away completely?" he asked.

Carly sighed, feeling both relieved and disappointed that he didn't pursue thier conversation.

"Yes," she said.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: **Christmas promises to be a pretty busy day this year. That's why, for a few reasons, I'm not going to be posting on Christmas Day. Instead I'll be posting Christmas's chapter on Christmas Eve, so there'll be two chapters. There's also going to be a slight surprise on Christmas Eve too, so stay tuned!_

* * *

December 12, 1972

Carly knew that they had upped it to five different types of eye drops now. The original eye drops stopped hurting a long time ago, but the new ones stung and itched from time to time. She knows that it worriesd Hank, even though Paul told her that they had the same reactions from the lab animals.

She knoew that Hank worried about her, although she couldn't see how she a was giving him any reason for that worry. She knew that they were close, in a way that Paul she and Paul, though friends, are not. Since their discussion about tragedies she knew that something subtle but important has changed between them. Carly wasn't sure what it meant, but she felt that they'd drawn closer somehow.

The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. A few months ago she hadn't even known that Hank had existed. Carly knew that it would be easy to brush off what was happening as an infatuation, or perhaps just a strong reaction to meeting someone who would have deep conversations about Shakespeare and Shostakovich.

However, Carly was never one to take the easy route and come up with excuses. She had the strange feeling that what was happening was something quite a bit deeper, made all the more brilliant by the short amount of time that she had known Hank. He was like a flame that had met dry brushwood and was fast consuming her.

Carly had never met anyone quite like Hank, a man whose sensitivity, kindness, and intelligence was new to her. Despite his incredible gifts he hadn't become full of himself or imperious. He was modest and gentle. His awkwardness was endearing, almost as though he was trying to fit into a world that he didn't quite belong in and was struggling to find his place.

Carly wondered what had given him that impression. She knew that he was a mutant, but he had obviously overcome his difficulties to become a doctor. He never talked about his parents or family, and she wondered if he had any. Now and then he would talk about his friends, although he never brought up any of their names.

It did make her feel strange, knowing so little about him. It was one of the reasons why she knew that what was happening was not a desirable situation for anyone. Hank was her doctor, and she knew what it would sound like if she told him that she was falling for him. She would look like she was going through a classic princess syndrome, seeing him as her knight in shining armor getting her sight back.

At worst he would think that she was using him and become uncomfortable around her. It wouldn't be good for his professional record if he began a relationship with his patient. He had worked hard to get where he was, and her presence could end up damaging that. She didn't want that to happen.

If anything she would have to wait until after the procedure, although Carly knew that could be seen as using her sight to scrutinize him before beginning a relationship. She knew that she could be overthinking the entire situation as well, but she couldn't help it. Not when there was nothing to do but sit and wonder.

"Tilt your head back."

Carly obeyed. Hank clicked a flashlight on and examined her eyes. She couldn't see the dull flash of the light, but she knew that Hank was satisfied with what he saw.

"The tissues are accepting the drops," he said.

"Excellent," Paul said.

He clicked his pen.

"We should be able to set a date in late January," he said.

"Late January?" Carly asked.

"Before the thirty-first," Paul said, "We'll know if it works a few hours afterwards."

Carly smiled, biting her lip.

"I'll be able to see," she said.

"It appears so," Hank said, "If the operation goes well then I don't see any reason why you wouldn't be able to see in the hours after your surgery."

His confidence made her smile widen. It appeared that, for once, he wasn't worrying. It made her happy. She wondered if it was a sign of his comfort level around her, around his work. Carly wondered if they were at the stage where she could ask him. She wanted him to feel as though he could answer her truthfully.

The door opened. The heels told Carly that it was one of the nurses, although she couldn't quite remember all their names. Only one of them wore heels.

"Sorry to bother you Dr. Baulson," she said, "But Mr. Drake has thrown his back again."

"He's been gardening again, hasn't he?" Paul sighed.

"I'm afraid so."

"I'll be there in a minute," Paul said.

The door closed.

"How come all of my patients reinflict their injuries?" he asked.

"Because my patients are cheaper," Hank said.

Paul laughed and left the room.

"He gets paged a lot," Carly said.

"He has more patients," Hank said.

His voice seemed wary, as though he were uncomfortable with the line of questioning. Carly decided to drop it.

"So," she said, "I didn't watch the weather report this morning. Are we due for snow soon?"

"It appears so," Hank said, sounding relieved, "We should be looking at a white Christmas."

He sat down in the chair on the other side of the room. Carly was starting to wish that that chair was closer.

"I hope it hasn't thrown a wrench in anything," he said.

She frowned.

"Like?" Carly asked.

"Well, if you had anyone coming to visit you it might be difficult for them to drive down," he said, "We were thinking it was time to give your eyes a rest from the drops, so you wouldn't have to be at the clinic."

Carly bit the inside of her cheek.

"That won't be a problem," she said.

"Oh," Hank said.

She could almost feel his horror roll off of him.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"No, it's alright," she said, "I don't really have any family, and my friends can't get off work. So it's not going to be a problem."

It was fairly truthful, or at least truthful enough so she didn't feel guilty about lying to him.

"So…" his voice slow and ponderous, "you're planning on spending Christmas alone?"

His voice sounded both incredulous and cautious. Carly managed a shrug, although the thoughts running through her head weren't exactly bright. She would have spent the day with her father, but that was impossible now. She didn't know when she would be able to have another Christmas with her father again.

It was the first one that she was going to spend without him and the thought hurt. Despite her other conflicting emotions about the man in front of her she bowed her head. Carly didn't want him to see tears in her eyes, didn't want him to think that he had made her upset. It wasn't as though she could share what was wrong.

"I hadn't really thought of it," she said, "But yes, I suppose so."

Carly wondered if she was making Hank uncomfortable. She knew that she would be uncomfortable in that situation. She might not have told him about her family problems, but she had just told him that she was going to be alone on Christmas. Carly knew how incredibly sad that sounded, how pathetic.

She needed to laugh it off, to act as though it were no big deal. She snapped her fingers. A moment later Penny nosed into her hand. Carly scratched her ears.

"Well, not really. I'll have Penny," she said, hoping she sounded cheerful.

There was a pause. Carly hoped that bringing her dog into it didn't make her sound even more pathetic. Hank cleared his throat.

"I don't come from around here, but you already knew that," Hank said.

His voice sounded thick, as though he were deciding on something.

"I did," Carly said.

She felt uncertain as to what was happening next.

"Paul is going to visit his aunt and uncle in Providence," Hank said, "And I don't have any other close friends in this town. So…perhaps…"

His voice trailed off. Carly felt her breath catch.

"If you didn't have any plans," Hank said, "perhaps you could visit."

He coughed.

"For Christmas dinner, or something," Hank said.

He seemed to stumble over his words. It was his strange awkwardness coming out again, but Carly couldn't believe what was happening. He was inviting her to Christmas dinner. The gesture was so considerate and thoughtful that she could feel herself tearing up again.

"I…I would be delighted," Carly said, "I…"

She let out a choked laugh.

"I just can't…are you sure?" she asked, "I mean, I'd be happy to, but are you sure? I know that this is unexpected and-"

"Of course I am," Hank said.

It sounded as though he were smiling.

"Then yes, yes," Carly said, "I'll be there."

She knew that she was grinning, that all thoughts of her father had been pushed out of her mind. Carly couldn't believe that the man in front of her had that effect on her.

"I'm happy to hear that," Hank said, "I really am."

* * *

Hank had never been impulsive. Out of all of them Alex was the impulsive one, and he'd managed to get himself into several messes because of it. Hank had preferred to plan his next move and think things out carefully before making a decision. He had already graduated by the time that the Institute had opened its doors, but he had the feeling that his superlative in the yearbook would have been "Least-likely-to-invite-a-beautiful-woman-to-dinner-on-an-impulse."

However, now he had. He walked into his office and shut the door behind him. He ran a hand through his fur. Hank knew that what he had done was a little more than impulsive. He had only known Carly for a few months, and Christmas was a date that was meant to be shared with family, friends, loved ones.

The problem was that Carly was a loved one now, and he knew that what he was feeling for her wasn't a friendship. He felt lost and floundering. He didn't have a very good track record with relationships, and he knew that he was hopeless in most social situations. Even before he had enhanced his mutation he had felt uncomfortable around people. How would being in love be any different?

Hank tried to backtrack. He wasn't in love with her. They shared a very passionate friendship, and he supposed that he thought of her as more than a friend, but it wasn't love. They hadn't known each other for long enough. He had to put the word 'love' out of his mind. It wasn't love.

Not to mention she was his patient. It was unprofessional in the worst kind of way. Then there were the repercussions if she did get her sight back, which seemed likely. He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning up against the door. Hank wished that he could gain some sort of better control over himself, but it was too late for that.

At the same time, he couldn't regret it. The look of happiness on her face when he invited her gave him reason to hope. Perhaps she was fond of him in the same way that he was. It was unlikely, and even less likely once she found out about the true nature of his mutation, but it had made him feel good to do something for her. Her smile had been like turning on the light in a dark room, flooding him with warmth.

Hank opened his eyes and shook his head. He really couldn't afford to think like that. Unfortunately he had already thought like that, and that was why he was expecting a guest on Christmas. He had no idea what to do; he had never been into hosting parties. It wasn't his specialty.

Parties. He rubbed his temples and sat down at his desk. Hank picked up the phone and dialed, sighing as he did so. He really was creating

"Hello. You've reached the private offices Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. We can't come to the phone right now so suck it up and leave a message."

He grinned. It appeared that Alex had gotten control of the answering machine again. He quickly sobered though.

"This is Hank," he said, "I'm sorry, but I'm not going to be able to come to the Christmas party this year."

He closed his eyes. Milky green eyes flooded his vision, followed by a smiling face framed with waves of rich brown hair.

"Something happened," he said.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: **Merry Christmas and happy holidays!_

* * *

December 20, 1972

"So you're heading out?" Carly asked.

"Yes," Paul said, "I should be back before the new year."

He pulled away and made a note on his clipboard.

"But I've got some good news Carly."

Hank saw her brighten up.

"What?" she asked.

Paul looked at Hank. Hank coughed and managed a nervous smile.

"I've been talking to Paul, and we've lined up some of the data collected from our examinations of your eye tissue," he said, "It matched some previous data that we had collected from an earlier study."

Carly turned towards him. One of her hands dug into the cot and the other rested on Penny's head. Hank knew that she was hopeful, and the idea that those hopes rested in him was almost more than he could bear. He was glad that, no matter what would come in the future, this time he had good news.

"However, the data it matched was much further along than what we had expected," Hank said, "If things continue in this fashion, then we will be able to operate on your eyes on the tenth of January."

Carly's mouth opened slightly. She smiled and he felt warmth enter him.

"I…I can't believe it," she said.

"Your eye tissues have been accepting of the chemicals," Paul said, "You're a perfect specimen for this procedure."

Carly grinned and got to her feet. Hank shifted his weight, although he didn't know exactly what he would do if she fell. He knew that the disorientation that she had originally experienced had been lessened with the passage of time, but he didn't like the idea of her falling and hurting herself.

"I'm really glad to hear that," Carly said.

"As such we have declared a slight break for your eyes, to give them time to adjust. It worked best with the animal procedures that way," Paul said, "We figure that we could discontinue the treatments for a few days and start them back up on the thirtieth. It will certainly result in some easier Christmas travelling."

Paul's voice was jovial, but Hank winced. He knew his friend didn't know that Carly wasn't spending Christmas with her family. He hadn't told him. Hank looked over at her, ready to apologize and try to put some balm on what had to be a fresh wound. Instead he saw her smiling, looking as though what Paul had just said was somewhat amusing.

"I'm not travelling very far," Carly said.

"Oh?" frowned Paul.

"My family can't come down, and I really can't go up," Carly said, "but Hank has graciously invited me to spend Christmas with him."

Paul turned to him, his gaze questioning. Hank looked back, hoping that his expression was steady.

"I know you're leaving soon Paul," Carly said, "And I'd like to thank you for everything that you've done for me, for everything that you're going to do."

Paul tore his gaze away from Hank.

"Think nothing of it," he said.

"But I do," Carly said, "I think the world of it. Of both of you."

She ducked her head and tugged on Penny's leash. The dog led her out of the room. Hank couldn't help but look after her. As soon as the door closed he heard Paul sigh.

"I thought you were planning on going to New York," he said.

Hank shrugged, trying to act as though what had happened was nothing out of the ordinary.

"No one should have to spend Christmas alone Paul," he said.

"I know," Paul said, "I know but…Hank…"

Paul licked his lips.

"I see the way you look at her."

Hank's heart sunk. He knew that what he was feeling for Carly was nothing even resembling friendship. He would never find words to describe what she was doing to him, how she was changing him. Somehow it seemed as though she were pulling him out into the world around him.

It would be better if she never knew, but he wasn't sure that he would be able to keep it up. He'd been attracted to others in the past, even since he'd been foolish enough to inject himself with the serum. Hank had always resisted the pull though, deciding to focus instead on doing something with his life.

Somehow Carly was pulling him harder, almost as though she had hooked him and was calmly reeling him in. Hank had stopped being certain that he could resist. He had always been able to resist such things in the past. It was better that he wasn't given something to ruin, to hurt. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt someone like Carly.

"Paul," he said, "I want you to trust me. You know how seriously I take my profession. I would never take advantage of my patients."

"I know, and that's not what I'm worried about," Paul said.

Hank gave a rueful snort.

"And don't worry about this getting out of hand either," Hank said, "The last thing someone like her would want is someone like me getting ideas."

"You're too hard on yourself Hank," Paul said, his voice sharp, "You always are."

Hank sighed.

"You sound like my teachers," he said.

Although Paul had never met Charles and only knew him through stories where Hank had left out the names he raised his eyebrow.

"Maybe you should listen to your old teachers a bit more," he said.

"Now you sound like my friends," Hank said.

"I do try to say the right thing," Paul said.

He shook his head.

"I just don't want you to get hurt," he said, "That's all."

Hank sighed and ran a hand through his fur.

"I do a pretty good job hurting myself," Hank said, "I don't need any help."

Paul shook his head again and clapped his hand on Hank's shoulder.

"The maybe it's time you had someone help you stop," he said.

Paul removed his hand from Hank's shoulder.

"Whatever you decide," he said, "I hope it's the right choice. She won't be our patient forever you know."

Hank forced a grin onto his face.

"Why Paul," he said, "you're not trying to play matchmaker are you?"

"Perhaps a little," Paul smiled.

He paused.

"By the way," he said, "Who's cooking?"

"What?" Hank asked.

"For Christmas," Paul explained, "I figure it would be you, but-"

"You think that I would invite her to my house and then make her cook?" Hank asked.

Paul shrugged.

"I don't know," he said, "Do you have any plans about what you're going to do?"

Hank was nothing but plans, although none of them had been implemented. Carly was coming to his house in exactly five days. He'd been in a flurry to prepare it, to make sure that she wouldn't smell anything off or trip on anything that had been left lying on the floor. Hank didn't have much faith in his cleaning skills, but he hoped to make it look as though he always kept a tidy space.

Back at the Institute he was known for being messy. He had notebooks stuffed with equations that were written on napkins and the backs of brochures. He remembered Moira looking over his workspace, searching for the blueprint for the Blackbird, in dismay. It had taken her an hour to find it before he came in and found it for her.

Cooking had been a lot less easy. Cleaning was something anyone could do; it just required time and effort. Hank had planned to leave the small town in Rhode Island and go to Westchester, just like he had every year for ten years. He'd been called on to help out with dinner, of course, but that usually just meant making a pie.

As a result Hank made a terrific apple pie. However, he had no idea how to cook anything else. Moira had been pretty handy in the kitchen, and it turned out that Sean had some hidden talents of his own. Alex wasn't let within fifty miles of the kitchen, nor was Charles. It seemed odd that this would be the one thing that they would have in common; a complete inability to cook.

He supposed that was unfair. He'd seen Charles cook pasta once or twice, and he knew that Alex did a decent job reheating things. It was the kind of thing that a latch-key child like him would have known; how to open a can and get some nourishment from somewhere. It was a skill that his brother shared with him, having grown up in the same drab foster system as Alex had. He often marveled that they had found each other at all.

Hank had a family life that, while chilly, had at least provided him with food. He often wondered if he'd known more about Alex before meeting him that they would have become friends sooner. It was easy not to hate someone who you knew had a rough life. Still, he supposed that it was better that way.

No matter what, it meant that he had very little idea about what to do with the food that he was supposed to be cooking on Christmas. He was cooking for two as well, and he knew that would have to be taken into his calculations. Leftovers were all very well and good, but he didn't want to be swimming in them or come off as trying too hard.

It was a nightmare, but it was nothing compared to the daunting task of getting a present for Carly. He knew that he'd have to get one. She was coming into his home on Christmas, and he didn't want to leave her feeling awkward if she'd gotten him something. It would just be another failure to add to his list.

Despite his doubts he put on a brave face.

"I think I've got it under control," Hank said.

Paul smiled. He walked over to the window that overlooked the small yard in front of the clinic.

"It's snowing," he said.

"I thought it might," Hank said, "I'm surprised it hasn't sooner. Do you remember all of those blizzards last year?"

"Of course," Paul said.

Hank began to put away the vials of eye drops.

"Hey, Hank?" Paul asked.

"Yes?" Hank said.

"Did it snow much where Carly comes from?" he asked.

Hank cocked his head, trying to remember.

"Not for a while, and not much," he said, "Why?"

Paul inclined his head towards the window.

"Because she seems to be enjoying it," he said.

"What?" asked Hank.

"It's just like I said," Paul said.

Hank left the vials and walked over to the window. True to his word Carly was standing outside, one of her hands stretched out to catch snowflakes. Her hair was down and the flakes were getting caught in it. Carly was smiling, almost as though she had been laughing a moment earlier, her face a mask of joy.

Penny sat by her, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. Carly still had one hand on her leash, but she was looking forward and reaching out, as if anticipating a world that she might be able to see soon. Her coat was on, but it was unbuttoned and the sleeves seemed to emphasize her delicate hands. The light from the sun filtered down on her gently, lighting her hair and making the snowflakes glow.

Hank swallowed. It was like he was seeing the snowfall for the first time, seeing it how she saw it; as some sort of beautiful, enigmatic creation. He wondered if it was part of her not being able to see what was happening, or if it was just who she was. He had the feeling that it was the latter.

There was nothing he could say, give, or do, to let her know just how much he appreciated what she did just by being her. Working on the surgery to give her her sight seemed like such a paltry thing, especially since it hadn't been designed for her. Somehow he knew it would help, but still.

Penny got up and began to walk back to the clinic. Carly laughed and shook her head, causing her hair to fly around her in waves. Penny sat back down and Carly smiled. It was impossible to keep from staring. He could tell that Paul was looking at him, but it was hard for Hank to tear his eyes away from Carly.

"She's changed everything Paul," Hank said, "Absolutely everything."

Paul looked out the window at Carly before looking at Hank. He nodded, his movements slow.

"I can see that."


	7. Chapter 7

December 25, 1972

Carly rang the doorbell and withdrew her hand. She wished that she could clasp her hands together. It was something for her to do, since she felt as though she was just standing still like some sort of idiot. It had stopped snowing outside, although the air was still cold. She felt thick and awkward in the sweater, jacket, earmuffs, and scarf. Her gloves had swathed up her hands into a bundle that was rapidly becoming numb from her nerves.

In one hand she had Penny's lead. She'd made sure that her dog wouldn't freeze in the cold weather by wrapping her up in the coat she had packed for her. She had it looped around her wrist and was balancing the chicken pot pie that she had made. It had been a tradition in her family and her grandmother had taught her how to make it when she was little.

Carly assumed that Hank would have had a menu planned out, but she'd been taught that it was a common courtesy to bring something to a dinner party. She supposed that she should have asked him first, and it made her wince as she thought of the potential embarrassment it could cause.

Her other hand held his gift. It was wrapped up in a plastic bag so the weather couldn't ruin the wrapping paper. She'd asked a few attendants at the store what it looked like so she wasn't just wrapping it in anything. She'd put a lot of effort into finding out what to give him. Carly felt shy about getting him something and wanted it to work.

She'd always been a decent gift-giver and she'd found a gift for Paul easily enough. However, like so much else when it came to Hank, this was different. Carly wanted to show him how important he was to her, but at the same time she didn't want to scream her feelings or make him uncomfortable.

Carly had tried to put as much effort and thought as she could into it. Her funds had been limited. She was being paid for her part in the procedure, but it wasn't as much as her old job had paid. She hadn't had to pay for housing though, so she supposed that it was all evening out in the end.

She'd budgeted for gifts for the past month or so. Even before Hank had invited her for Christmas she'd plotted to get him something. It was difficult since the biggest beacon of civilization was five hours away and Carly had to be at the clinic just about every day to have the eye drops administered to her.

However, even in Jasper she'd been able to come up with a few ides. It had taken a considerable amount of effort on her part, both in terms of finding the goods and the money, but she felt that it was well worth it. There was a good chance that he would like it. Carly hoped that things would work out.

Just thinking about all the ways that day could go wrong left her feeling dizzy. Normally she liked to think of herself as a sensible, well-rounded, and independent individual. What was it about Hank that turned her into a nervous mess? They were in an unusual position true enough, or at least she was. She didn't know what his feelings about the two of them were, although Carly knew that she should know.

There was something that was standing in her way though, something that was keeping her from figuring it out. Carly had the rather unpleasant feeling that it was her. She should know her own mind and be confident in going after something. However, Hank wasn't just anyone. He was a man who was smarter than her, a doctor, respected, and kind.

Carly, on the other hand, was technically unemployed. She had been a secretary before she'd moved to Jasper and had completed an associate's degree at college. She hadn't been anywhere and while she enjoyed hearing Hank talk about what he'd seen and done in the world, it also made her feel small sometimes.

Why on earth would someone like him want someone like her? Carly wasn't foolish enough to think that her blindness would be an issue. Hank wasn't that shallow. However, she was rather ordinary, a stay at home kind of person who had been nervous about crossing the state line for a procedure. Despite all of their shared interests, they weren't a match by any means.

From in front of her she heard a scrabbling behind the door. She had to smile as she heard the locks being unbolted and the door opening.

"I'm sorry I took so long," Hank said.

He sounded out of breath. Carly smiled.

"It's alright," she said.

"You must be freezing," he said, "Come in."

Carly stepped inside. She heard Penny shake off the snow next to her.

"Can I help you with any of that?"

Carly shifted her dish and the present.

"Thank you," she said, "If you could-?"

The dish and the present were taken out of her hands much faster than she'd thought they would be. She blinked, feeling confused. She should have felt his hands at some point, should have passed him the items. Instead he had managed to take them from her hands without allowing even the briefest of contact.

On some level Carly felt hurt. She had hoped that he would be comfortable with a casual touch, even something as simple as putting his hand on her shoulder, at that point. However, it appeared that he still wasn't comfortable. Again she wondered if it had anything to do with his mutation, but she couldn't ask.

Carly brushed it out of her mind. She couldn't let it get to her. He hadn't done it to offend her; it was just his way.

"Thank you," she said, taking off her wrappings.

She groped around for the coat rack before finding it a minute later. She had begun to take off her sweater when she heard the clink of her dish on the table.

"Chicken pot pie," he said.

Carly smiled and put her sweater with her coat.

"I hope it doesn't mess anything up for you," she said.

"Oh no, no," Hank said, "Thank you."

She could hear him turn to face her. He paused and Carly held her breath. She'd picked the dress she was wearing with care. She still remembered buying it, remembered asking about the color and the print before purchasing it. All Carly knew was how it felt on her, only knew about the hemline and the neckline after exploring it.

From what she'd been told it was a plain white dress. The sleeves were long; coming down to her wrists, and the skirt was knee-length. It was a scoop neckline that came down in a modest cut. There was a thick white ribbon that ran around the middle of it for a sash, but other than that it was plain.

She had been told that she looked good in it. She hoped that Hank agreed.

"Yes?" she asked.

Carly heard him clear his throat.

"You look nice," he said.

His voice had a strange quality to it, almost as though he were speaking from far away. A spark started in her heart and she smiled wider.

"Thank you," she said.

He cleared his throat again.

"Dinner's ready," he said.

Carly nodded and stepped forward. Penny pulled her forward until Carly felt a chair beneath her fingertips. She sat down and Penny sat down next to her. A chair scraped and she heard Hank arranging his table setting before sitting down in front of her. Carly clasped her hands, trying not to be nervous.

"I made turkey, potatoes, carrots, and biscuits," Hank said, "I wasn't sure what you wanted, so I put a little bit of each on your plate and poured the wine so…"

He trailed off.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I haven't played host very often."

"It's okay," Carly said, "I haven't been invited to too many places."

She heard him shrug from the other side of the table.

"Well, we'll both try this out together," he said.

Carly nodded and took a bite of the first thing her fork hit. It turned out to be the potatoes. They were slightly too buttery, but other than that fine. The rest of the food was good too. Carly wondered how long he had spent on it, how much effort he had gone to in order to make everything right.

"It's really good," Carly said.

"One of my friends gave me the recipes a few years back," Hank said, "But as far as good food goes, I could say the same about your pie."

"Secret family recipe," Carly laughed.

She reached for her drink, making her movements small until she had located her glass. She took a sip and pulled back.

"This is really good wine," she said.

"I try," he said.

She put the glass down.

"So, you're into classical music and literature, and now you do wine too," she said.

"It's a hobby," Hank said.

"Is there anything you can't do?" Carly laughed.

There was a slight pause form the other side of the table.

"I suppose one or two things," he said.

"Probably only one," Carly said.

She heard him shuffle his silverware, but he didn't say anything. The rest of the conversation over dinner had to do with music and a few books that they hadn't already discussed. Jasper didn't have a library rich in braille books so Carly'd had some slim pickings. However, discussing old favorites always made her feel better.

It put her more at ease. Coupled with the wine she felt confident enough to get her gift to after dinner was over. She handed it across the table, feeling both nervous and excited. He would like it. She was almost sure, but it had been too long since she had given a first gift to someone.

The book was removed from her hands. Once more she noted the lack of contact and sighed. It wasn't important, it really wasn't, but she did wish that he would touch her, even if only once. Hank had every right to keep his distance, but Carly knew that she wasn't going to be able to talk herself out of wanting to touch him.

Across the table she heard the rip of paper. She heard him breathe in.

"_The Complete Comedies of William Shakespeare_," he said.

Carly smiled. He sounded surprised, but also pleased.

"Open it," she said.

She heard the rustle of pages.

"To the man who needs more laughter in his life. Comedies are more poignant than tragedies, no matter what," he read.

She smiled again.

"I had to do something to get you away from all of the doom and gloom," Carly said.

A deep chuckle reached her ears.

"Thank you Carly," he said.

She heard him get up. There were a few shuffling noises and something heavy was put down on the table.

"Your turn," he said.

Carly reached out and began ripping the paper away from the object. It was large and square. For a while she didn't know what it was. Once the paper had been ripped away she ran her hand over it. It took her a few minutes to figure it out, but when she did her hands stilled. She tried to swallow her tears.

"You got me a record player," she whispered.

"To replace your old one," Hank said, "The one that broke."

She swallowed. Carly could still remember the noise that it made when it had smashed to the floor, the shouting and screaming that surrounded its demise. It was a bad memory, one that was imprinted firmly in her mind, somewhere she could see it often but had no desire to revisit.

Carly thought of her father, the man who she'd spent every Christmas with since she was born. She thought of the record player, of kneeling on the ground and picking up the pieces, knowing that it was broken beyond repair. She thought of walking out the door, trying to hold back her tears and be strong.

"Carly," Hank asked, his voice concerned, "is something wrong?"

She swallowed. Hank didn't understand what he'd done for her. Her old record player, and all of the memories that it had contained, had been taken from her. Now she had a new one, given to her in a new place, by a person that she hadn't met before a few months ago. Without trying Hank had given her a sign that things could start over. She'd already known it, but somehow the record player made it more real.

For the first time the clouds in her head started to disappear. The kindness that he'd shown her was made all the more poignant by the fact that he didn't know what he'd done. He'd just tried to make her happy, and in doing so he'd given her a great gift. It was why Carly loved him.

"No," she said.

She looked up, smiling.

"Nothing's wrong," she said, "Nothing at all."


	8. Chapter 8

January 2, 1973

"Eight more days," Carly said.

Hank smiled at the excitement in her voice. Even Penny was wagging her tail, catching onto her mistress's jubilant mood.

"Eight more days," he said.

She smiled and leaned back in his chair. Carly had been coming to his office more and more. At first it had been on the pretext of borrowing records for her new record player, but sometimes she just dropped by to share lunch or just talk. Hank knew that he wasn't getting much work done when she was around, but he couldn't see it as a bad thing.

Now, with eight days to go until the surgery, he knew that he was going to have to find his courage and say something to her. It would have to be after the surgery, seeing as he did have his professional morals to consider, but that would be cutting it close. Carly was only required to stay for a week after the surgery was done. It was for her safety; to make sure that nothing went wrong with the procedure.

However, it meant that, in around two weeks, she would be going back to Boston. Hank knew that there were bigger concerns, but after Christmas he had decided that he would just try to see the situation through. Moira had once told him that the hardest thing could be taking the first step in a relationship. At the time he had been asking her about how she felt about being at the Institute, but he figured that it applied.

Carly wasn't shallow and he wondered how he could have believed that she was. He knew that his appearance would affect their relationship, but he was willing to believe that she wouldn't reject him purely because of his appearance. It would make things difficult, he knew that. However, Carly was worth taking a chance on.

He was planning to broach the topic of writing to her when she went away. He hoped that they could begin something before she left though. Hank didn't know how she felt about a long-distance relationship, if she was interested in him in that way, but he knew that he could do it. He'd started several friendships with other scientists through letters, commenting on the papers they'd published.

As such Reed Richards and Tony Stark were some of his best friends outside of Westchester.

"It really seems like only yesterday that I got here," Carly said, "And at the same time, it feels like it's been a very long time."

She shrugged.

"Do you know what I mean?" she asked.

"I think I do Carly," he said.

He pushed his paperwork away. He knew he wasn't going to get any done anyway.

"You're familiar with what's going to happen?" he asked.

"Yes," Carly said, "I'm going to get my last infusion of eye drops in three days. I'll eat nothing a day before the surgery."

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Although I'm not sure that I'm looking forward to that," she said.

"I'll get you something afterwards," Hank promised.

Carly smiled and he felt warmth inside his chest.

"Once I'm anaesthesed you'll try to fix the damage to my optic nerves," Carly said, "Ten hours after the surgery I'll be able to take the gauze with the disinfectant solution off."

"And you won't move around too much when you have it on," Hank said.

"Hank, you've been over this with me a thousand times," she laughed.

"Twelve times to be precise," Hank said.

He frowned.

"Well, thirteen now," he said.

Carly shook her head, still laughing.

"You need to stop worrying," Carly said.

Her smile broadened.

"I trust you," she said.

The words felt like an electric shock through his body. For the most part he couldn't help but be pleased. Carly trusted him. He knew that she probably meant as a doctor, and she had given herself over to their hands, months ago, but she had said that she trusted him. She didn't say that she trusted the procedure.

At the same time a feeling of guilt assailed him. She trusted him, but he'd been keeping secrets from her. He'd always been so careful not to touch her so she wouldn't feel his claws and fur. He'd made sure that he was on the other side of the room whenever he could, made sure that there were barriers in between them to prevent accidental touching, like a desk.

Sometimes he wanted to reach for her so much that it hurt. Whenever she handed him something he wanted to brush up against her hand. Hank hadn't had people casually touch him in years who weren't from Westchester. There he would receive pats on the back, punches on the arm or, in the case of Alex, the occasional headlock.

Outside of that world people had made their prejudices, however slight, known through avoiding contact with him. People wouldn't shake his hand and they always kept their hands far away when they handed him something. Paul was one of the first people who was willing to act as though there was nothing different about him.

Carly had reached out to him, although he knew that she didn't know the significance of her actions. In a way it was touching; she was willing to let someone have contact with her that she knew was different. Carly didn't know just how different he was, but it was enough that she was willing.

He cleared his throat. It was time to let her know just how much her actions meant to him, just who she had been around for so many months. He flexed his fingers, feeling his padded fur and claws. He tried not to click them together, and he stared at them for a moment longer. They had dictated so much of his life.

He swallowed again and looked up, ready to tell her.

"Maybe I should start looking around for a job vacancy," Carly mused.

Hank was brought up short.

"Pardon?" he asked.

Carly raised an eyebrow.

"Not listening, were you?" she asked.

Her voice was light, teasing. He managed tucked away his words for later, just the right moment.

"Just lost in thought," he said.

"Long night?" Carly asked.

"You could say that," Hank said.

It was as good an excuse as any.

"Do you need some time to rest?" Carly asked.

"No," Hank said, "I'm fine. Please, continue."

Carly shifted her hands in her lap.

"I was thinking about looking around for job vacancies up here," Carly said, "Perhaps trying to figure out a place to rent. I don't know if there are many options here, but I can't stay in the apartment above the offices forever you know."

Hank frowned. She hadn't mentioned this before.

"You're not going back to Boston?" he asked, "I thought you had family up there."

Carly hesitated.

"No," she said.

He could hear the uncertainty in her voice, the flat tone with which she spoke the word. For a moment he didn't want to push it, didn't want to ask. However, he felt that they had come to the point where he could ask, where he could try to help. Christmas had given him confidence, something that he had always severely lacked.

"Carly," he said, his voice gentle, "is something wrong?"

She turned her head, one of her hands travelling up and down her arm. Hank watched as she bit her lip.

"If you'd rather not say-" Hank said.

She shook her head.

"Hank…it's just…I don't really know how to say this," Carly said.

She paused.

"Hank, before I left Boston I got into a fight with my father," she said.

He waited, knowing that there was more to it. The way she was talking about it it sounded like it had been a rather bad argument.

"I've lived with him ever since I was a child. Money was tight and he always liked having me close," Carly said, "My mother died when I was young and...his parents died before that...we're the only family we have and, well, I guess I thought it was part of my duty. He didn't like the idea of me leaving the state, but he agreed that the possibility of me getting my sight was important."

She bit her lip and stopped rubbing her arm.

"Until…" she said.

Her voice trailed off.

"Until?" Hank said.

She swallowed.

"Hank, my father isn't a bad man," Carly said, "He's always been there for me, he's always been kind. He makes friends easily. He…"

She looked down. A sinking feeling began in Hank's chest. He had a feeling that he knew where this story was going.

"But," she said, "when I was accepted…when I was accepted to the experiment and the paperwork came in…"

Her voice trailed off again. Hank sighed, knowing just what had happened.

"He saw the waiver for having a mutant doctor," Hank said.

Carly nodded.

"Hank, he just…he said that it was going to be dangerous, that he didn't want me near mutants in such a delicate procedure," Carly said, "Said he didn't want me near them period, that they were just going to find a way to hurt me."

Hank swallowed, feeling as though each word was pummeling him deeper and deeper into the ground.

"He started waving his hands around," Carly said, "And...he...he knocked my record player down and..."

Her voice trailed off. Hank laid one of his hands on the desk and looked at again. Thick blue fur, claws. There was nothing natural about it in the animal kingdom. He had become something so grotesque that it surpassed humanity and animals alike.

"I see," he said.

"Hank," Carly said.

Her voice was soft. She reached out onto the desk. He didn't have time to think about how she knew where his hand was, if he had been so loud when he'd put it down. He just pulled it out of her reach. Her hand groped on the desk for a moment and her lips parted, her expression confused.

Finally she pulled her hand back and put it on her lap. A flicker of hurt passed over her face and Hank turned away.

"Hank, that's why we had the fight," Carly said, "I couldn't see any reason why it should matter."

Her words warmed him, but the cold feeling of despair had already overtaken him again.

"Well, you're here, aren't you?" Hank said.

He tried to keep his emotions out of his voice.

"I am," Carly said, "And that's the reason that my father isn't talking to me. To be honest…I don't know if I would be able to see him right now. Not with things as they are. It's why I want to stay up here."

She smiled, although it was a watery one.

"I know it sounds like I'm running away," Carly said, "But he told me he didn't care what happened to me, that if I ended up worse off it would serve me right for choosing my sight over my family."

Her voice became quieter.

"I like to think that I chose being a human being over my family."

"Indeed," Hank said.

She wiped a few tears away from under her sunglasses. Hank wished that he could reach out and wipe them away himself, but he knew he couldn't. Not now.

"I hope that the two of you reconcile," he said, "I know it's hard to be so distant from your family."

"I hope so too," Carly said, "One day."

One day. Hank would only be in the way when that day came. Her father would never talk to her again if he found out she was with a mutant in addition to being involved in a procedure with one, and especially such an obvious mutant. He curled his hand into a fist: the claws poking the pads of his hand. Pain laced his hand. He wondered if it was drawing blood. Hank was unsurprised to find that he really didn't care.

"However," he said, trying to keep his voice light, "Jasper is lucky to have you."

She managed a smile.

"I like to think I'm lucky to be here," she said.

Hank dug his claws deeper into his palm. It gave him some way to ground himself.

"However, from what you've told me about your past job," Hank said, "then I think that I can suggest an opening at the Sherriff's department."

Carly smiled.

"I would like that," she said.

Hank withdrew his claws from his hand. He saw that, true to his suspicions, he had drawn blood.


	9. Chapter 9

January 9, 1973

Carly couldn't help but feel hurt. Over the past week Hank had seemed to find excuse after excuse not to be around her. He was always busy with something or another, always needing his privacy to complete paperwork, something he had never needed before. Often times Paul would be the one to come in and administer the eye drops. Hank wouldn't even be in the room.

There were times when she wanted to talk to him so bad it ached. He was the closest person to her in her life. Carly had been accepted into the opening at the Sherriff's department. She was lucky that they didn't need her to start right away. Carly had wanted to tell Hank about it, to celebrate, but he'd just told her that he was happy for her before hurrying away.

Carly tried to rationalize it, but she couldn't find a satisfactory reason for his new behavior. She'd broached the subject to Paul, feeling somewhat helpless. She'd heard Paul shift his feet and Carly had felt like crying. It was obvious that he was trying to figure out a way to cover for his friend.

"Hank's been busy," he said at last.

The words sounded hollow, as though even Paul knew that they were a poor excuse. Carly nodded, trying to keep from crying.

"I understand," she said.

She didn't though. She didn't think that there was any way that she could. That night Carly laid awake in her bed, still trying to keep her tears back. It had taken her only a week to realize how much Hank had become part of her life. Now that he was gone she felt as though someone had torn a piece out of her and left her disoriented.

Her surgery was almost upon her. Carly felt excited, but she had thought that Hank would be there to share her excitement. She had placed her hopes in his hands and, at the time, she had been confident in the kind of person that she was trusting. Now that he had distanced himself from her Carly couldn't help but wonder if she'd hurt him somehow.

Carly wondered if it had something to do with her father. Carly had told him the story only because it had been a secret that she had been carrying for months, unwilling and unable to talk about it to anyone. She had told it to Hank in the hope that she wouldn't be judged, that he would understand.

She hadn't tried to offend him, but now she was wondering if she had. Carly had thought that she had made it clear that she didn't share her father's sentiments. Surely Hank didn't think that she felt that way about mutants? She'd known that he was a mutant since coming to the clinic, and it hadn't stopped her from becoming close to him. Hank wasn't stupid. He couldn't possibly think that she disliked him because of his mutation.

However, she wondered if she had spoken too candidly. Perhaps she should have edited the story or just kept it to herself. Carly didn't know if she could broach the subject now, but she was going to have to. It was the day before her surgery, and Carly didn't see how she could go into surgery without getting things resolved.

Carly had been looking forward to many things after getting her sight back, such as seeing roses and exploring the world around her for the first time. As time had gone on she had added another thing to her list; Hank. Carly wanted to see the man who had challenged her mind and changed her life. She wanted to be able to smile at him and meet his eyes, to see what his smile looked like and the odd face she knew he had when he coughed.

He needed to be there for her to do that though. If he didn't want to stick around after performing the surgery, then she would have to hunt him down. Carly wanted to see him there, to be reassured by his presence. She wanted to show him that his procedure had worked, wanted him to see how it had helped her.

She gathered up her courage and knocked on the door to Hank's office the next day. Her stomach was rumbling from lack of food, and for once Carly was glad that she couldn't eat before going into surgery. Carly didn't relish the idea of throwing up in Hank's office from sheer nervousness.

"Come in," Hank said.

Carly opened the door and stepped in, Penny pulling her. She heard Hank shuffle his papers around on his desk.

"Oh, Carly," he said.

"Hank," she said.

She took a seat, trying to figure out what to say. Carly heard Hank put his hands on the table, almost as though he were rubbing them up against each other nervously.

"I was actually going to try and find you," Hank said.

Carly felt her breath catch. Perhaps it had all been a misunderstanding.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to be able to be here after your surgery."

Carly felt the air being forced out of her lungs.

"What?" she asked.

"I'm…needed on another case."

His words stung. Carly struggled with her tears for a moment. She was not going to let this happen. She'd told Hank that she didn't run away from harsh realities once. She supposed that a caveat was that she couldn't be an apathetic bystander. Carly wasn't going to allow her heart to be broken, not when she could do something.

"You'll have the best of care," he said.

"I know," Carly said.

She swallowed, ready to lay everything on the line.

"But it was you that I wanted to see," she said.

Silence blanketed the room. Carly bit her lip and waited.

"Carly…" Hank said.

His voice trailed off.

"Hank, why are you doing this?" Carly asked.

"I…I'm not doing anything," he said.

"You're pushing me away," Carly said, "You're pushing me so far away and I don't know how I'm supposed to catch up now. Did I do something?"

"No, of course you didn't!"

His voice was vehement. Carly supposed that that was a start.

"Then what?" she asked.

"Carly…I'm not sure that we should discuss this," Hank said, uncomfortable.

Carly shook her head.

"It's too late to stop now," she said.

"Carly," Hank sighed.

"No, don't Hank," Carly said, "You're too smart for that. Is this…"

She swallowed.

"Is this about my father?" she asked, "I'm not like that."

"I know that," Hank said, "I know."

She heard him rub his hands together. Carly reached forward, trying to lay her hand on top of his. She heard him pull his hands away, just like he always had. For some reason it only steeled her determination.

"Don't do this Hank," Carly said.

"Carly…" Hank said.

"Don't wear out my name," Carly said, "Just let me…let me in. Just please, don't shut me out like this."

From across the desk she heard him take a deep breath.

"There are things about me that you don't know," he said.

"There are things about me that you don't know either," Carly said, "I don't see how it changes things."

"It does though," Hank said.

Carly frowned. Realization slowly dawned on her. She tilted her head back further, jutting her chin out.

"You've got a physical mutation, don't you?" Carly asked.

There was a long pause. It would explain quite a bit if his mutation were physical.

"How...?" he said.

"Hank, just because I'm blind doesn't mean I don't know what's going on around me," she said.

"I know," Hank said.

He sounded resigned. Carly held out her hand.

"Your hand," she said.

"I…" Hank said.

"Please," Carly said.

There was a pause.

"Don't be afraid," Hank said.

His voice was soft, pleading. Carly didn't have time to answer before his hand fell into hers. Carly had longed for his touch for so long that his sudden acquiescence threw her off-kilter. She started for a moment, the sheer size of it overwhelming her. She felt something soft on it, almost as though it was covered in fur. It took Carly a moment before she realized that that was exactly what it was.

Cautiously she brought up her other hand. She ran her fingers over his palm. It was velvety, the skin textured and thick. It was interspersed with more fur. Carly ran her fingers the length of his own. They were longer and thicker than her own, their underside the velvety skin and the back the fur.

She stopped when she got to the end of his fingers. Carly felt something sharp and she pursed her lips, taking her time. She didn't want to cut herself, and she was still uncertain as to what was going on. Claws protruded from his hands, curving slightly. The clicking sound that his hands made on the counter when she first met him making sense.

Carly got up, still keeping his hand in hers and leaving Penny. There was more to the story than just his hand. She had felt his forearm, the fur that coated that as well. She walked around the desk and reached out. Her hand touched what she thought was a nose, although she could feel that it was bigger and flatter than anything she had felt before. She reached back and found a pointed ear, lying flat against the side of his head.

Carly traced his jaw down to his lips. She knew that what she was doing was intimate, but she couldn't stop, not now that he was finally sharing something that he had been keeping from her for so long. She felt a split lip, almost like a muzzle. Carly stopped when she reached his lips, letting her hand fall limp.

"My eyes aren't ordinary either," Hank said.

His voice was quiet. Carly remained silent, wondering what to say to that.

"So now you know," Hank said.

She paused for a minute, trying to marshal her thoughts.

"Your mutation?" she asked.

"Is that I look like a cross between lion and a blueberry."

His voice was somewhere between a sigh and a snap of frustration. Carly frowned, biting her lip. She wanted to tell him that she didn't know what a lion or a blueberry looked like, but she knew that now wasn't the time.

"I don't understand," she said.

"What do you mean?" Hank asked.

"What…what does this have to do with how you've been treating me?" she asked.

She felt Hank stiffen in surprise.

"Carly, I…I don't even look human," he said, his voice desperate, "And you…you're beautiful Carly. I can't…it's hard to believe that you would even feel that way without being able to see what I am-"

"I have seen what you are," Carly said.

She grabbed his hand again, clutching it tightly.

"You're a good man," she said, "The kind of man who's gentle, who listens, who understand things. You'll talk composers and writers for hours and not get bored. You'll listen to me and that's…"

She swallowed.

"That's the man that I love," Carly said, "Who cares about the rest?"

A claw touched her face gently.

"Carly," he whispered.

She felt tears trickle down her cheeks. Hank reached up and wiped them away.

"Your father…" he said.

"I don't care," Carly said, her voice vehement, "If he can't accept you in my life, then he can't accept who I am. And I don't want a relationship where I have to hide who I am."

The words had come out without much forethought, and they hurt, but at the same time they were true. Her father didn't understand. She hoped that she could bring him around, but she wasn't going to let him stand between her and Hank. Carly knew that she would be in pain because of her later, but she wasn't going to deny herself happiness because she was afraid of that pain.

"Oh Carly," Hank said.

His hand cupped her face. She leaned into his touch, sighing.

"I…I'm your doctor," he said.

His voice was faint. Carly knew that she was at the last barricade. She smiled. this one she could tear down with ease.

"Not for much longer," she said.

Hank's grip tightened.

"I look forward to that," he said, "For many, many reasons."


	10. Chapter 10

January 10, 1973

"Hank, are you okay?"

Hank looked over at Paul as he finished washing his hands. He'd had gloves that he'd designed especially for himself for the surgery that went up to his elbows, so there had been no point when even a follicle of his hair would have brushed up against Carly's skin. It was ironic really, considering all the care that he'd been through to hide what he was. Now that he could touch her without worrying he'd had to seal up his hands.

Still, it meant that nothing that had even the most remote chance of being contaminated would be near her delicate eye tissues. It was something any doctor would do. Washing his hands after the procedure, or shampooing them as Alex had once put it, was more of a precaution than anything else.

"I'm fine Paul," he said.

"You just look a little flustered," Paul said, "That's all."

Hank grinned and began drying his hands.

"No, I'm fine," he said, "Although it is strange that someone's hopes and dreams rest on me."

Hank didn't want to add what he was thinking, which was that that it was harder when those hopes and dreams belonged to someone that he cared about. It wasn't something that he was used to. He had hoped to involve himself with the human factor in his research, and now this was what came of it

Lives had certainly depended on him in the past, and Hank was used to the burning pressure that built up behind his eyes and pierced his brain. He'd managed to get away from the pain in his heart by distancing himself, concentrating on saving the life rather than what the life meant.

However, that wasn't an option with the type of surgery that he had just performed. There was no life to be saved; just to be improved. The dull pain in his heart had returned, a kind of steady beat of anguish. Just like everything else he had managed to get past it, but the unpleasant sensation that came with its initial appearance nearly drove him out of his mind.

"I see," Paul said.

He took off his own gloves and began washing his hands.

"All initial signs indicate that the surgery took," Paul said.

There was an edge of excitement in his voice. Hank glanced over at him.

"Initial signs are not necessarily indicative," he said.

"But so far it looks great," Paul said.

He finished with his hands, his movements erratic and giddy. Hank looked him over once. Paul was a young doctor who had just performed a surgery that, if successful, would be talked about for years to come. The euphoria of success tinged his features, his eyes fervent and his lips permanently twisted into a grin.

The feeling was not foreign to Hank. He hadn't felt it in years though. Hank had been inventing things since he was ten and had taken apart his father's grandfather clock and his mother's blender to make a battery. His parents hadn't been amused, but Hank had still felt that strange euphoria.

He wondered when it had gone away. Had it been during his time at Westchester, when he'd realized that all of his work was just a small piece in a great design, a great cause? Had he lost it when he accepted that he was a moving part among many, useful to be sure, but not at the center of any universe?

Perhaps. Anything new or special that he had made had blended into a fabric, something that would contribute to something greater than any surgery. Westchester had shown him that everyone had a contribution to the world, great or small, and that a process in and of itself was extraordinary, not just the end result.

There had been no euphoria, but there had been something else with the X-men though. He'd felt as though he were triumphing over something, contributing to a great building like the Taj Mahal or the Vatican. Hank felt as though he and his fellow X-men were building something amazing, something for future generations to marvel at. It had laughed at any feelings he'd had about seeing himself as brilliant.

Hank didn't know how he felt at the completion of his work. There was, he knew, some of that euphoria that Paul was feeling. He didn't trust it so much though. Hank knew that, yes, what he was doing was a worthy process. He was giving people deprived of their sight a chance to see the world.

At the same time, the feeling that he'd gotten when he'd developed a way to stabilize a young student's shifting blood cells or moisturize the cracks in their bones was nowhere to be found. Hank felt himself hunting for it, for even a glimmer of that old feeling of fighting for a cause. It was nowhere.

Hank leaned up against a counter. He should have expected it, should have known what he was missing out on now that he had chosen a life over the one he'd had in Westchester. He was still doing good, he knew that, but somehow he felt as though his old work had been more fulfilling.

"Carly should be coming around in about twenty minutes," Paul said.

Hank blinked, breaking himself out of his reverie. Somehow it didn't seem important anymore. Operating on Carly had been somewhere between a dream and a nightmare. It was a dream that he knew that he was giving her something that was truly precious to her, a chance that she wouldn't have had otherwise.

It was a nightmare because he was cutting her eyes open and stitching them back together. He wished that he could have the same level of detachment that he'd had when he'd pulled shrapnel out of Alex. Once Hank had even resuscitated Charles after a fight with the Brotherhood had gone terribly wrong. He'd made Hank swear to never tell Moira what had happened, how close it had been.

Part of him didn't see why Carly should have been any different. He cared for her deeply, but his friends had been in actual life-or-death situations. He'd been able to carry them through without losing any of his assurance, any of the aplomb that, despite his clumsiness outside of the surgical theater, he knew that he had.

Carly was different. The idea of her hurt was terrible, the idea that she might be hurt because of him almost sent his constitution to splinters. It hadn't lasted very long, but it had lasted long enough for him to agonize over it later. He was unsure of how to proceed with that feeling.

"Hank?" Paul asked.

"Yes?" Hank said.

"She should be up soon," Paul repeated.

"I know," Hank said, "You said."

He wiped his hands one last time before heading for the door.

"I'll go check on her," he said.

"I thought so," Paul said.

Hank shook his head and left the room. It was a good thing that they knew how each other felt. If she could rattle him so deeply then he knew that living without her was no longer an option. The thought was unnerving, but he didn't dwell on it. Carly needed him to support her right now, and he needed to see if he really had managed to make a difference for her.

* * *

The gauze felt oppressive over her eyes. Carly had never been prone to claustrophobia. She had hidden in cupboards when she was younger, her frame small and delicate, even more so than it currently was. Carly was still rather small, but the days when she could hide in cupboards or wriggle onto shelves was long gone.

Either way, small dark spaces had never frightened her. Rather, they had been associated with fun memories of playing with her father. Many of those memories were now tainted by the argument they'd had, but Carly was not going to let recent events destroy good memories or tarnish anything that happened to her in the future.

The gauze was different. Between the soaked gauze and the cotton balls that kept her eyes closed was Carly's future. Laying down in her hospital cot made the pressure better, almost as though it were distributing it. Penny was lying at the foot of her bed, and in a way it felt like home.

However, the pressure and the anxiety were still there. There was a whole world that it divided her from. Carly didn't know if it was the darkness that had clouded her eyes, nodding at her return, or if it was a world full of light and colors that would welcome her. It was almost unbearable.

The only reason why it was bearable was because Hank was there. His gentle voice read aloud from _Love's Labors Lost _and she could almost hear him laughing. Carly knew that the time was drawing near when they would take off the gauze, when she would find out whether or not the procedure had worked.

Carly had meant it when she'd said that, of all the people in the world that she would trust herself to, she was glad that it was Hank. Paul was trustworthy too, but Hank was the one that she loved. She doubted that there was anything in the world that she wouldn't trust him to do for her.

At the same time, her nerves rose up in her throat, threatening to choke her. She liked to think of herself as a brave person, as someone who could face just about anything. Perhaps it was because so much hinged on the procedure's success, so much that she wanted to do with what it could give her.

She tilted her head towards Hank, trying to reassure herself with the sound of his voice. The gauze had been blocking her off from the world for hours. Her stomach was empty but she could have sworn that it was churning around. It felt as though someone were stepping on her chest and she ached to get rid of the feeling.

Carly clenched her hands on the side of her bed to keep from reaching out and trying to pick at it. She knew that there were consequences if it was removed too early.

"Carly, are you alright?"

Carly bit her lip and turned on her side so she was fully facing Hank.

"Just a little nervous," she said.

"No need to worry," Hank said, "Paul says that your initial signs are very good."

Carly nodded.

"I know…it's just…"

"It's just what?" Hank said.

Carly shrugged, drawing her knees up to her.

"I've been waiting for so long for this and…I just…"

She trailed off, knowing just how pathetic she sounded.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"It's alright Carly," Hank said, "It's natural for you to feel this way. I want this to work for you too. I wish I could give you more."

Carly heard the uncertainty in his voice. She fought the urge to shake her head. Their relationship was in its infancy, non-existent because of doctor-patient agreements, but soon it wouldn't be. She relaxed her knees and reached out. Carly felt his furry arm, felt it tense beneath her touch but not draw away.

"You've given me everything," she said.

She heard Hank sigh and the door opened. Carly withdrew her hand, recognizing Paul's footfalls.

"So, ready to get that gauze off you?" he asked.

"Yes," Carly said, struggling to keep from crying with relief.

"Alright," Paul said, "If you could sit up."

Carly did so. She felt his hands on the side of her head, heard the snip of scissors. Gently the gauze was pulled away from her eyes. She felt the pressure decrease, felt the moment of release draw near. Carly wanted to reach for Hank's hand, to hold it and reassure herself, but she didn't know where he was.

The gauze fell away, the cotton balls in front of her eyes maintaining their place. It was still dark, but Carly's eyes were still closed beneath them. She felt Paul's hands pull them away, leaving only her eyelids keeping her. Carly swallowed, feeling afraid, but she had to open them, had to know.

She opened her eyes. For a moment there was darkness and Carly wanted to cry. Then blurry changes marbled her line of sight. Things began swirling together and then they became clearer, sharper. She blinked a few times, each blink bringing the world into sharper focus, her breath catching as her sight came.

With her sight came an image. Carly looked into the concerned face of a furry man in a lab coat, his shoulders broad and his eyes glowing.

"Did it work?" Hank asked.

Carly took in a deep breath.

"You're beautiful," she said.

She saw the pure shock on Hank's face. His lips moved, as if he would say something but the ability had been taken away from him.

"What about me?" Paul asked jokingly.

Carly tilted her head.

"You're alright," she said, reaching out and taking Hank's hand in hers, "But why don't you have nice soft fur like Hank?"

"I have a better razor," Paul said.

Carly laughed and looked back at Hank. He was staring at her with a strange mixture of awe and devotion. She squeezed his hand, and her heart leapt when she felt him squeeze back.

* * *

_**A/N: **This was areally touching scene in the episode, so I couldn't resist using some of the dialogue. Don't worry though; the story is far, far from over. _


	11. Chapter 11

January 20, 1973

"Hank?"

"Yes?"

"It's snowing."

Hank smiled as Carly reached for one of the flakes in the sky. Her other arm was tucked securely in his. The feeling was almost dizzying.

"Did it really not snow so much in Boston?" he asked.

She smiled at him, the flake settling in her gloved hand before she lowered it.

"Not when I can remember it," she said.

She wrapped her first arm to join her second.

"Want to get some hot chocolate?" she asked, her head leaning on his arm, "Or tea. I know how you feel about tea. There's a great place about two blocks down. Well, I've never been, but I hear it's good."

His breath caught as her hair brushed his cheek.

"Hank?"

"Yes?"

"Hot chocolate?" she repeated.

"Yes, that sounds wonderful. I'm sorry I wasn't able to concentrate," he said.

He brushed a cluster of snowflakes from her face, careful that his claw wouldn't cut her.

"It's a recent problem," he said.

Carly smiled again. Three days had passed since Carly had officially stopped being his patient. They had gone on their first date the day after, although he wasn't sure if her bringing him lunch in his office could count as a date. They might not have gone anywhere official yet, but Jasper offered limited opportunities.

One weekend he planned on taking her down to Providence. He knew that they were going to attract stares though, and he hoped that he could avoid that for a little while longer. At the age of twenty-seven, having looked like a beast for ten of those years, Hank had become somewhat accustomed to those stares. Carly hadn't though, and he wanted to spare her that.

She sighed up against them as they stepped onto the sidewalk. That day had been her first at the Sherriff's department. Carly was tired, but she had insisted that she wanted to go out. He was looking forward to hearing about her work day, and how she was finding things. Carly was settling into life at Jasper, and Hank was eternally grateful that she wasn't booking a flight for Boston instead.

She'd told him a few things about the department already, such as the rather interesting shenanigans that she had already caught the staff involved with. Apparently they had never seen a filing system. Hank supposed that, in a small town like Jasper, there weren't many crimes to file. The most intense he'd ever seen the police get was rescuing a rather stubborn cat that had climbed up a tree and got stuck there. Hank had remembered their expressions as they fetched the cat, torn between irritation and disbelief at their new job duties.

While Hank couldn't blame them it was also nice living in somewhere peaceful for a change. So many years of his life had been a war zone, and now he could look forward to a little peace and quiet in a small town in the middle of nowhere. The police might be bored, but Hank was appreciating the first real sign that there were places that the war between humans and mutants had not touched.

There were still conflicts going on, and Hank couldn't help but wince when he thought of them. He had tried to keep out of politics, and he remembered Charles's insistence to all of his students that they stay in school all the way through college. He'd even added a college program to the Institute just to keep his students from being drafted.

Hank shook his head. That was another time, and another place. Even while things were going on there could be peace. He'd wondered how he'd never quite seen that. With Carly's arms in his and her head on his shoulder though, Hank was startled that he hadn't been able to see it before.

Of course, not everything was perfect. Carly was still living in the apartment above the clinic. He knew she was looking for a place, but it was difficult to find somewhere in Jasper that was both renting and affordable. She didn't have anywhere near enough cash to buy a place, and Paul had said that she could continue to use the apartment until she did find somewhere.

She was, of course, being charged rent. Carly had insisted, although he knew that both he and Paul felt awkward about it. Hank was glad that the facility was technically in Paul's name. Hank wasn't sure that he would be able to bear the thought of being her landlord on top of everything else.

There was a simple solution to her housing dilemma, but he wondered if it was too early. They had been dating for a grand total of three days. They might have said the words 'I love you,' or at least implied them, more than any couple at their stage did, but Hank knew, without a question, that he had found a kind of kindred soul in Carly.

It was still too early for him to ask her to live with him though. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

"Here we are!" Carly said.

She pushed through the door to the small coffee shop. A few people looked up briefly before going back to what they were doing. One of his patients waved at Hank and he waved back before they went up to the counter. His eyes squinted as he looked up at the listed beverages.

"Do you need me to read something out loud?" Carly said.

Hank shook his head. He wished that he'd remembered to bring his glasses with him instead of leaving them at the office. He had flown planes through storms without the aid of his glasses, but it appeared that reading a list of beverages on a date stumped him. It really would be just his luck to have that happen.

"I'll just have whatever you're having," he said.

Carly tilted her head and nodded. The customer ahead of them paid and stepped aside. The young man at the counter, the son of the owner, nodded them on. Hank could remember him from treating a rather intense ear infection. He supposed it said something for his memory that he could remember patients' past ailments.

"We'd like two of the hazelnut hot chocolates, and two of those danishes with strawberry and custard please," Carly said.

The boy nodded and rang them up. Hank saw the boy's older sister hurrying to fill the orders in the back.

"That'll be ten dollars and eleven cents."

Carly reached for her bag, but Hank had been anticipating this. He pulled the money out of his pocket.

"Hank, I can pay," Carly said.

"First date, I'm paying," Hank said.

"I'm not letting you pay for a place that I said we should go to," Carly said.

"Yes, but I'm the one that said we should go out in the first place," Hank said.

"And I'm the one who said yes!"

Out of the corner of his eye Hank saw that the cashier was watching, amused. Even his sister was smirking in the back.

"No," Hank said.

"Yes," Carly said.

"I repeat; first date, I'm paying," Hank said.

"Will the two of you shut the hell up?"

Hank looked behind him. Unlike most of the town Hank was unfamiliar with the man that stood behind him, scowling.

"Bad enough they let something like you in town," the man snapped, "But now we have to deal with this?"

Hank felt Carly grip his arm tighter. The small café was rapidly going quiet. He wished that he didn't have to deal with this, not on that night. He'd tried to build a wall against comments like that, but that didn't man that they didn't stick. He just couldn't let them get to him. It wasn't worth it.

He tilted his head, keeping his expression and voice calm.

"It will only take a minute," Hank said.

"That's one minute too many," the man snapped.

"Sir-" the cashier tried.

"And you, letting it in here like it was a person!" the man said.

Hank could feel a headache coming on. This one was going to be a doozy.

"I am ordering now, and I am leaving for a table," Hank said.

The man's eyes narrowed before sliding over to Carly.

"And you?" he snarled, "Don't you feel ashamed of yourself, hanging onto that thing's arm?"

Hank felt his hackles rise. Carly's eyes were wide, but he could see the flicker of anger there. Hank was feeling it himself.

"I'm not the one who should be ashamed," she said.

The man's eyes narrowed further and he took a step back. Hank stepped in front of Carly. The anger was still burning in the back of his head, urging him to do something rather more final than just shifting his weight. As tempting and enticing as it was, Hank couldn't allow it to win. It was something that he kept repeating to himself, over and over like a mantra.

"I suggest you calm down," Hank said.

His own voice was still calm, but there was a heavy, leaden tone to it now. It was the only way he could keep from snarling.

"Why should I-!"

"Okay, out!"

Hank glanced to the side as the boy's sister, stepped forward, a freshly brewed pot of coffee in her hand. Her brother stood next to her, his arms folded.

"Out!" she said.

"What?" the man said.

"I said out!" she said, "Get out before I call the cops on you for making a disturbance!"

The hand holding the coffee pot was trembling. Some of the liquid spilt on the floor, making a sizzling sound. Hank could tell that she had picked it up on the way out, obviously preparing for a confrontation. The man sneered at her before leaving the café and slamming the door behind him. The girl turned back to Hank, the anger leeching from her eyes.

"I am so, so sorry Dr. McCoy," she said.

His hackles lowered.

"It's quite alright," he said.

"I don't-" the girl began.

"No, no," he said, "You can't help who comes into your shop."

"We're not charging you for-" her brother began.

Hank shook his head and handed the boy the money.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, "As I said, you can't help who comes into your shop."

He turned back to Carly, who was smiling at the brother and sister as well. She looped her arm in Hank's and they sat down at a table. Soon the café was alive with chatter, although Carly didn't say anything. Hank swallowed as the hot chocolates and danishes were brought to the table, unsure of what to say. He hadn't wanted their first date to go like this.

"You're really something," she said.

He blinked at her.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"You just, you were so controlled," she said.

She picked up her hot chocolate and took a sip.

"I'm not sure how much I would have been," Carly said.

He reached out and took her hand. The casual contact sent his very veins singing.

"It does take some practice," Hank said, "Although, to be honest, when he started talking to you it became more difficult."

Her green eyes softened. The surgery had brought a brilliant clarity to them, unlike anything that Hank had ever seen before.

"Oh Hank," she said.

He smiled and ran his thumb over her fingers.

"I'm sorry," he said, "This wasn't the way I wanted our first date to go."

Carly shook her head.

"I don't know," she said, "I'm still having a good time."

She cocked her head.

"You're still here after all."

Hank felt warmth flood in him. Carly might have some sort of idea that he was something special, but he wondered if she could see that same uniqueness in herself. He could.

"That's good," he said, "Because I don't plan in leaving any time soon."


	12. Chapter 12

February 14, 1973

Carly walked to her desk, surprised to see a dozen red roses in a vase. She couldn't help but gasp. One of her co-workers laughed.

"What did you expect for Valentine's Day?" she asked, "You're dating a doctor!"

There were a few collective laughs. Carly smiled before sitting down and running her hand over the petals. They were soft and delicate, just like they had always been. Hank had always liked giving her roses, always remembering the first day that he'd given her eye drops. Now he'd had an excuse to do so.

She pulled the card that had come with them out from amongst the blossoms. 'Tonight at six thirty' had been written in his faultless calligraphy, each movement painstaking and careful. She propped the card up at the front of her desk, giving her something to look forward to and get her through the work day.

She put the flowers on the kitchen counter in her small apartment in the clinic. There still hadn't been anything she could afford opening up and she was starting to get impatient. Penny barked to greet her and Carly scratched her head. Even though Carly didn't need Penny anymore, the dog had been her friend since the moment she'd held the fluffy bundle in her arms. There was no way that she would ever be able to give her up.

Carly pulled a pink dress that she had chosen for the occasion out of her closet. Now that she had her sight clothes shopping had taken on a whole new, and at times strange, dimension. She put it on with care, brushing her hair and applying make-up. Frowning at her reflection she went back to the kitchen and cut a fat rose blossom from its stem. She tucked it into her hair, securing it with a bobby pin.

Satisfied she put on a coat and walked out the door. Hank lived close to the clinic and she enjoyed the brisk air. She checked her watch, making sure that she didn't arrive too early. When she did step up to his door she found that she was ten minutes early. She hoped that she didn't put him to too much inconvenience.

Carly rang the doorbell. Just like her first time coming to his house she heard scrabbling and a few things crashing. She giggled to herself as Hank opened the door, looking flustered.

"Happy Valentine's Day Hank," she said.

He smiled and took her hand. She walked in. Carly hadn't been able to examine his house with her new senses when she'd last been there, but she was sure that there hadn't been quite so many candles or roses. She smiled and looked back at Hank, whose expression was torn somewhere between yearning for her approval and shyness.

"It's beautiful," Carly said, "Probably the sweetest thing that anyone's ever done for me."

Hank's nervous expression melted away.

"Then perhaps you need to meet a better quality of people," he said.

"Like you?" Carly asked.

"Perhaps," Hank said.

She walked to the table and sat down. She felt Hank touch the rose in her hair with his claw before walking to his side of the table. Unlike Christmas the meal was simpler. She had the feeling that he was still uncomfortable about entertaining, but Carly liked to think that her actual presence helped put him at his ease.

Carly sipped at her wine, which, just as it had been before, was excellent. She leaned back.

"How was work?" he asked.

"Usual," Carly said, "You?"

"I had to put someone's arm back in its socket," Hank said.

Carly winced.

"I wondered what that noise was," she said.

"Yes, it's a fairly simple but rather painful procedure," Hank said, "Of course, I like to think that I do it as best as could be. I've gotten myself down to five seconds."

"How on Earth do you know how to do that?" Carly said.

Hank clicked his claws on the table and Carly held up a hand.

"Wait, don't tell me," she said, "your last job."

"Yes," he said.

She took another sip of wine. Carly fully planned on asking him about his old job one of those days, but she was going to wait for him to tell her. It seemed that it was both a point of pride and embarrassment for him, which was confusing, but Carly figured that the type of job he was describing would be just that.

They finished dinner and retired to the couch. He put on an old Beethoven record, and the strains of _Moonlight Sonata _filtered through the air. Carly had long abandoned her shoes and sat with her legs tucked underneath her, her head resting on Hank's chin. Her last glass of wine was resting on the coffee table.

"You know that Beethoven got sick of hearing this song, right?" she asked.

"Yes," Hank said, "but it appears that the world hasn't."

Carly smiled and snuggled deeper into him. He stiffened slightly, but didn't push her away. She didn't know when she had gotten so bold, but she had the feeling that Hank was still self-conscious about the effect his appearance had on people. Carly figured that, after what he'd been through, it was going to take a while for her to get through. She could be patient.

Still, he hadn't even kissed her yet. Carly knew they weren't very far into their relationship, but a kiss was something that people generally enjoyed early on. She tilted her head up at him, wondering if she should try it then. Valentine's Day was the perfect excuse to try. He could, of course, push her away, but she had to start somewhere.

Carly closed her eyes and began to tilt her head up. To her slight surprise, and complete delight, he didn't move away from her. Her lips touched his cool, almost slippery ones. Carly felt butterflies in her stomach, but she knew that something else should be happening, such as his lips moving. She pulled away, feeling slightly embarrassed.

Hank was looking away.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I…I haven't kissed anyone in…about ten years to be honest."

Carly blinked.

"Ten years," she repeated.

"Well, yes," he said, "Then…this happened."

He gestured to himself.

"I'm afraid it rather took something out of my confidence," he said.

His voice was sad. Carly rested her shoulder on his chin, her mind whirring away. She chose her words carefully, uncertain of the impact that they would have.

"And…this girl that you kissed," she said, "She didn't stay with you?"

Hank looked at her, his golden eyes wide. Carly could see that she struck a nerve and she let go, looking away.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Hank cupped her face with his hand and turned her so she looked at him.

"No, don't be," he said, his eyes still wide, "You don't…well…"

He wrinkled his nose.

"You see," he said, "that happened a very long time ago, and well, her and I weren't even really together and…"

Hank sighed. Carly could feel some of her nervousness abating. He sighed, his hand dropping from her face.

"I didn't always look like this," he said at last.

Carly cocked her head. She'd gathered as much, but Hank had never really gone into the particulars of his mutation.

"I uh, looked normal once," he said, "You know the type; geeky, glasses. My feet were enormous though, each toe like a finger on a hand. As mutations go, not too extreme. Nothing to write home about."

He smiled, the expression forced.

"I met this girl who could shift her appearance. I had a crush on her, but her mutation fascinated me. I thought that I could use that," he said, "Use her blood to…change my own mutation."

Carly blinked at him.

"You were trying to change your physiology?" she asked.

"Just so I wouldn't look different," Hank said, "I wanted to keep my powers, but be able to blend in. She did too; her normal appearance was very different from, well, anything really. At least…"

He sighed.

"At least I thought she wanted to," Hank said, "But I used her blood to create what I thought was an injection that would allow me to keep my powers but change my appearance. I made some for her too."

Hank looked away, his lips pursed.

"She didn't want it," Carly said.

"She did change her mind, yes. She felt that we should be proud of what we are, what we look like. That just because it wasn't normal didn't mean that it was wrong," Hank said, "And I…said some things that I wish that I didn't."

A frustrated look passed over his face, an old regret.

"I wasn't trying to say that she was ugly," he said, "just that the world wasn't accepting of people who were different. But the way it came out…I was frustrated."

He looked miserable. Carly could picture him, a teenager who was even more awkward than he was as an adult. A hazy picture of the girl he was talking about formed in her mind. She sighed. There were too many filters for such information to pass through, too many different perceptions for the type of understanding that had been needed.

"I took it, she didn't," Hank said, "And my calculations were incorrect."

He gestured to himself again.

"And now I look like this," he said, "And…I think that I finally started to understand what she said."

"Did you ever tell her that?" Carly asked.

"Not immediately," Hank said, "She…sort of ran away from home the next day."

Carly blinked.

"What?" she said.

"Broke her brother's heart. For a long time I thought that I was responsible for that," Hank said, "But two years later she came back home again and I managed to apologize to her. I'll never forget her expression."

Hank scratched the back of his neck.

"She told me that she'd been thinking about where her life was going long before what happened with me," he said, "She was actually surprised that I thought of the situation that way. She, of course, believed that what she'd done was the only way she was ever going to be independent."

"Running away?" Carly asked.

"There was more to it than that," Hank said, "But I don't agree with her on that count; she didn't see the wreck her brother was in right after she left. I always thought that was rather irresponsible of her."

Hank shook his head.

"That's neither here nor there though," he said, "But she was right about accepting who we are. I can't say that we were in a real relationship, not really I suppose, but I am grateful for what she taught me."

Carly wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer. He looked at her, his eyes fixed on hers.

"Why did you have to be taught to love who you are?" she said.

He shook his head.

"It's difficult, being different in a way that people don't expect," Hank said, "My parents, anyone who found out really and…when that difference became more pronounced…"

He trailed off. Carly kissed his cheek.

"You don't have to be so hard on yourself all the time," Carly said.

She caressed his cheek.

"I'm sorry that you spent so much of your life thinking that you needed to be someone other than you," she said.

Hank stared at her for a moment. His hand snaked behind her head and pulled her into a kiss. His lips moved with hers and Carly sighed into the kiss. One of his hands wrapped around his waist, holding her close to him. The other one was buried in her hair, playing with the strands and becoming tangled in them.

He pulled away from her after a minute. Hank leaned forward so that his forehead touched hers. Carly smiled, touching his cheek with one of her hands.

"I love you," he said.

She smiled.

"I love you too," Carly said.

Hank's eyes opened, his golden eyes glowing.

"I…I was wondering if you would like to live here," he said, "With me."

The offer took her off guard, the raw honesty and longing in his voice leaving her reeling. She paused for a minute before smiling again.

"There's nowhere I'd rather be," she said.


	13. Chapter 13

March 20, 1973

"Hank, are you done yet?"

Hank grinned and finished signing another form. A lot of paperwork had to be done before they could even begin to let thier procedure be known to the world. They hadn't even scratched the surface.

"Almost," he said.

Carly leaned on a chair in his office, shaking her head. He felt a little guilty about working late. The rest of the staff had already gone home. Hank hadn't expected Carly to come when he'd told her that he had to work late. He'd just been alerting her not to be worried if he wasn't at home at the normal time.

Instead she had shown up with food and sat by his desk, a book in her lap. She'd made a few teasing comments, but for the most part she stayed silent. He had work to do. Instead, her mere presence was a kind of silent support, and from time to time Hank would just look up at her and smile. Her eyes would meet his and she'd smile back before she continued reading.

They had been living together for over a month now and Hank still had time to be amazed at the woman he was with. He'd tried to make his house as hospitable for her as he could, and he'd cleared out one of the guest bedrooms. He remembered how surprised she'd been when he'd seen that, and he'd been awkward the rest of the night, wondering just what was going through her head.

Carly hadn't said anything about it though. The level of intimacy that sharing a room would bring was still too much for him. He'd lived for far too long without something like that. There were occasions when she fell asleep on his arm or chest on the couch though. He relished those times, feeling her so secure in his arms. Carly often said that his fur made him far too comfortable, that she had never fallen asleep on the couch before she met him.

Having her so close, knowing that she was going to be home when he came home from work, was intoxicating. He was surprised how fast he was becoming accustomed to her presence, how he was already starting to wonder how he had gotten by without her. He'd had his friends, of course, but they were far away. When they had been close he'd been a soldier. Now it seemed as though life were taking him a different direction.

Hank had never dreamed that he would be able to have what he had with Carly. His appearance had put up a barrier to normal social interaction; if not in other people's eyes then at least in his own. He'd always felt that he was withdrawn from normal society in some way. Hank supposed that he would be the member of his group that never married and just ended up giving their friends' children too much cake. He'd been fine with that.

Now Carly was making him wonder if, someday, he could have a family. Five months ago she hadn't been in his life, and now things had gone down such a fast, intense road, that Hank felt almost lost at times. He remembered when Sean had met Maeve, the strange sparkle in his eyes, the almost dreamy tone in his voice when he talked about her.

He'd laughed and shaken his head at his friend, but Charles had said that he'd understand one day. Hank had just given Charles a look between disbelief and frustration. Charles had dropped the subject. He'd always known how Hank felt about his appearance, how he sequestered himself in Westchester.

Secretly he'd hoped that Charles was right though. Sean was goofy on a normal basis, but when Maeve had come into his life he'd gotten an edge and confidence that he had always lacked before. It was as though, now that someone believed in him completely, Sean was willing to do the same. It was strange that of all of them Sean was going to learn this lesson first.

Of course, there were some things that Sean had learned first that Hank had no desire to find out for himself. Hank had always felt sorry for his friend; he'd always been so in love with Maeve. Now that Hank himself knew what that love felt like, the last thing he wanted was for it to end the same way it had ended for Sean.

Hank finished signing the last piece of paperwork. He got up, scraping his chair backwards in the process. Carly looked up and shut her book. She reached for her coat and put it on as Hank came around to her side of the desk. He grabbed his coat from the coat rack and put it on. Despite it being March, the official spring thaw wouldn't happen until late April. The coat was more of a formality than anything; a call back to the days when he hadn't been covered in thick fur.

"Ready to go?" Carly asked.

"Ready," Hank said.

He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Ever since Valentine's Day he'd made a conscious effort to try to touch and hold her more often, trying to give her the physical contact that they both desired. Slowly she was helping him overcome what he had always deemed insurmountable obstacles. Carly smiled and started to button up her coat. She had just done up the third button and begun reaching for the fourth when the sound of shattering glass reached his ears.

Carly looked at the door, her eyes wide. Hank's hackles rose and he crept towards the door, peering out. The hall was dark, but he wasn't surprised. The sound had come from the first floor, probably from the back door with the glass pane. He wasn't sure just who it was, but they had picked the wrong business to try and burgle.

Hank tried to figure out a plan of attack, mapping out the building in his mind and tring to visualize where the perpetrator might go next. It was a simple situation, one that wouldn't even be considered a training level in the Danger Room. At the same time, he was going to have to be careful. Carly was with him.

Her hand rested on his shoulder. He looked back at her. Her eyes were still wide and she was looking to him for answers. He shook his head and looked back at the door.

"I don't know who it is," Hank said.

He looked back at her.

"You'd best stay up here," Hank said.

"While you go down there to face God knows what?" she asked.

"I'm equipped for these situations," he said.

Carly shook her head.

"You're a doctor, not a soldier," she said.

Hank winced. He'd been meaning to tell her about the X-men, he really had. He'd planned on using general terms, codenames, just enough information about his life that she would be able to understand, but at the same time not enough that she would really know anything about them. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, but the decision wasn't his. The lives and identities of his dearest friends depended on secrecy.

"Carly," Hank said, "because of who I am, there are times when I've had to defend myself. Besides-"

He managed a lopsided grin.

"-they'll probably just take one look at me and run away."

Carly looked doubtful. He touched the side of her face.

"Please," he said, "Just stay where it's safe. I'll be fine."

Carly hesitated for a moment, and then shook her head.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

"Carly," Hank sighed.

"Let's not waste any more time," Carly said, "I can stay behind you, and if bad comes to worse I can always retreat back upstairs."

Hank knew that retreat would be an option in such a scenario, but he knew that Carly would never take it. Still, he didn't like to think about what was happening on the first floor while he argued his point with Carly. He touched her cheek again and sighed. At least he was sure he would be able to protect her if it turned out that the perpetrator was a real threat.

She tilted her head, knowing that she had won.

"Let's move," Hank said.

Carly nodded. He walked out in front of her, sniffing the air as he went. He took the stairs instead of the elevator; it would make too much noise. Carly stayed five steps behind him, each step small. She was trying to be quiet, although to Hank's ears she still seemed noisy. He continued on until they reached the first floor.

A dark shape was in the hallway, that of a man with a long coat. Hank estimated that the man was nearing six feet, and his build was heavy. He seemed to be peering in room after room, his movements erratic. Hank motioned for Carly to stay in place. He didn't know what the perpetrator wanted, but he was going to make sure that he didn't get it.

He slipped down the stairs and pressed his back against one of the wall paritions, waiting for the perpetrator to turn his back on him. Those few seconds would give him time to move through the open ground unheeded. It would give him the window of opportunity that he needed to put the man in a headlock and knock him out quickly and quietly without alerting possible accomplices.

The man continued down the hall. Hank sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring. His brow wrinkled as he did so. There was something familiar about the scent. It made Hank freeze as he sought to remember it. It had been a long time, but this scent wasn't something that would fade with memory. He'd been too exposed to it.

Hank stepped out from behind the partition and flipped on a light switch. The figure turned around and Hank froze.

"Alex?" he said.

Alex grinned, although Hank could see that the expression was strained. He was wearing his X-man uniform, long past the time when yellow and blue would have clothed him. Instead he was wearing yellow and black; his coat black with a yellow stripe and a red and black 'X' on the sleeve. The very fact that he was in his uniform threw Hank. It couldn't be a social call.

"Long time no see," Alex said.

His voice sounded tired. Hank couldn't be bothered with that though. His mind was whirring away too quickly.

"Did you break in here?" he asked.

"I had to," Alex said, "I tried your house, but you weren't in there."

Hank rubbed his temples.

"Did you break in there too?" he asked.

"I didn't break a window or anything; just picked the lock," Alex said, "I didn't have time to be delicate here though. I swear I'll pay for it."

"I don't see why you needed to do that in the first place!" Hank said.

"I needed to get to you and our communications broke down."

Hank could feel blood leeching from his face.

"Did something happen at Westchester?" he asked.

"No," Alex said, "but similar."

"What do you mean?"

Alex went to open his mouth as gentle footsteps reached Hank's ears. He felt Carly come up behind him and a headache began pounding in his temples.

"What's going on?" Carly asked.

Hank pinched the bridge of his nose. Guilt assailed him, as well as frustration. He had meant to tell her in his own time about what he had been. Carly had given him everything and the least he could do is try to give her something in return. She was part of his life, and the people who had made him who he was were almost all at Westchester.

He swallowed, feeling his fingers flex.

"This is Alex, an old friend from school," Hank said.

Alex began twitching his hands, a sure sign that he was impatient.

"Hank, can you get your staff out of here?" he said.

His voice was harsh. Hank set his face.

"Carly isn't staff," he said, "And she can be trusted."

Carly gave him a questioning look. Alex's look was even more curious, but Hank could tell that something else was on his mind.

"We have a man down," Alex said, "We just managed to get here. It's bad Hank."

Hank began rolling up his sleeves. He knew Carly was still confused, but from Alex's tone he didn't have time to explain the situation to her.

"Carly, I need my medical kit from my office as fast as you can," he said, "It's the brown leather bag with the gold snaps. I'll be in the examination room."

Carly swallowed before nodding. She ran up the steps and Hank concentrated on Alex.

"What happened?" he asked.

"You know how it is," Alex said, his voice suddenly business-like, "Brotherhood encounter up near Connecticut. Needless to say they got one of ours. I had to resort to using the nearest medical facility."

"Meaning me," Hank said, "Did you call Jean?"

"She's getting things together right now," Alex said, tapping his head.

He gestured to the room next to him.

"Is this the examination room?" he asked.

"Yes," Hank said.

A second later a blast of pink light filled the doorway.

"Clarice has gotten better," Hank said, stepping inside.

For a moment he took in the scene. Clarice was standing with one hand against the wall, panting. The other members of the team were in a similar state of disarray. Blood was splattered over Jean, matching the red hair that tumbled over her shoulders. She was looking panicked, her eyes wide as she propped Scott's head up, sweat beading on his face and his hands clutching a bloody slash mark on his abdomen.

It appeared that Hank would be patching up another member of the Summers family.


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N: **Happy new year everyone!_

* * *

Carly had no idea what was going on. Hank obviously knew the man who had broken the window, but Carly had no idea who he was beyond the brief introduction that Hank had given her. She couldn't believe that he thought that would satisfy her, but it was apparent that they didn't have time for long explanations.

She knew that, for the stage in their relationship, she knew very little about his past. Embarressingly she hadn't really thought about it until she'd seen Alex. Carly knew him, knew his likes and dislikes, his morals, his sense of humor, everything about him. However, she knew nothing of his home life beyond a few scraps, and there was a ten year period that he only ever lightly touched on.

When she reached the examination room she had to stop for a minute. Alex was still there, but he had been joined by five teenagers, all scattered in various locations around the room. All of them wore black and yellow uniforms, red and black X's emblazoned on their shoulders and belts.

One of the teens stood in the corner, his eyes wide and his hands limp by his side. White feathery wings sprouted from his back, tucked in tightly. A girl stood by his side, her skin a bubblegum pink and her hair matching. Another girl was giving her support, her skin dark and her hair pure white.

A girl with red hair stood near the examination table, looking as though she were on the verge of all-out panic. The boy on it looked young, his eyes concealed by goggles with thick red glass. Sweat trickled down his face, mingling with the dried blood there. Alex stood by Hank, murmuring things.

Carly swallowed and stepped into the room.

"Hank," she said.

Hank turned, as did several of the teens. They eyed her suspiciously and Alex waved his hand.

"Hank says she's fine," he said.

They relaxed, but not by much. Carly still had the feeling that they were sizing her up, looking for a way to put her down if necessary. Hank took the medical bag from her, giving her a grateful look. She smiled, although the only thing that she really felt was a strange sense of surrealty at the situation.

Hank turned back to the teen on the table. Carly didn't know if she should go or stay. If Hank needed something then she was the only person who would be able to find it. At the same time she knew that the room was getting crowded. She was surprised that he hadn't already banished the surplus of people out of the room.

He opened the bag and picked out a syringe full of anesthetic and injected it into the boy's arm. Hank's eyes flickered towards the red-headed girl, who nodded back. Carly watched as the teen laid his head back, but she couldn't see just when his eyes closed. The goggles made it impossible.

"You were right Alex," Hank said, moving the boy's hands and looking at the wound, "It went deep. Black Tom?"

"Black Tom," Alex said, "He carries a knife too it looks like. Cyclops knocked the shillelagh out of his hand or you'd be treating a burn victim."

Hank nodded.

"I don't think it hit anything too major, but he did nip several arteries and his intestines are damaged."

Hank wiped his brow. His voice rang with authority and Carly thought of his previous job, the one that he had never really told her about. It had been serious, had involved situations and procedures that were far beyond anything that she had ever seen him do in the surgical theater. Perhaps this was it.

"He didn't puncture the stomach wall though, so none of the bile is leaking through," Hank said, "We have that to be thankful for."

"Is he going to be alright?" Alex asked.

Hank paused, still working on the damage.

"His chances are about even right now, but they are improving," Hank said.

The red-headed girl bit her lip.

"It's my fault," she said, "If I had moved faster than he wouldn't have-"

"Marvel Girl, stop," Alex said.

His voice was acidic. Marvel Girl looked up at him, tears in her eyes.

"But if I'd-" she said.

"But you didn't," Alex said, "And he moved because of that, and he got injured. You are not allowed to get upset, you are not allowed to let yourself think about it anymore, and you are damn well not allowed to panic. That was the past, this is the present. So leave the 'what-ifs' for the Danger Room or I'll have Blink take you back to the Blackbird. Is that understood?"

Carly frowned as Marvel Girl nodded, tears in her eyes. Hank didn't even look up at the exchange.

"He's lost a lot of blood," he said, "Anyone a match?"

Alex shook his head.

"I already asked," he said, "Don't you have any spare-?"

"It's okay," Carly said.

Alex turned to her, his eyebrows raised.

"I'm type O," she said.

Hank looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes full of worry.

"I…" he said.

Carly tilted her head back. He sighed.

"Marvel, I'd like you to start up a blood transfusion between Carly and Cyclops. We need to start immediately so his body doesn't go into shock," he said, "Also, an IV drip would be good too."

Marvel Girl hesitated, clearly unwilling to leave Cyclops's side.

"You heard him!" Alex snapped.

Marvel Girl nodded and stepped away from the table. Carly walked over to them, standing across from them. Marvel Girl waved her hand and a chair from the corner of the room moved towards them. Carly stared at it before sitting down. It had been obvious that the teenagers were mutants, she just supposed that she hadn't thought too much about it all.

"And I know this is tough," Hank said, "but everyone not doing something should leave right now. It's too crowded in here; everyone is blocking up the light and creating a stuffy atmosphere."

He shook his head.

"I've let you stay for too long already."

She saw the looks that passed through the room. Alex put his hand on Hank's shoulder, his eyes hard.

"You know what you're doing," he said.

There seemed to be something deep and bubbling beneath his words. Hank nodded and Alex left the room. The rest of the teens followed, their eyes straying back to Cyclops. The girl with the white hair continued to help the pink girl walk, her own footsteps slow. Carly saw what she thought was a quiver of pink crystals on the pink girl's back before the door closed.

As Marvel Girl inserted the needle in her veins Carly looked at Hank. His head was bent down, his eyes focused. She had never seen him so clam, so intense. It was like she was looking at someone different, a man who had performed the type of surgery he was doing now a million times before.

Carly felt her heart turn in her chest. She wondered just how much it was that she really knew about Hank.

* * *

Scott was a mess. Black Tom had clearly been going for the killing blow when he attacked Alex's brother. Having Black Tom hurt Scott would probably make him a lifetime enemy of Alex. He was already on Alex's black list for what had happened with Sean and being a member of the Brotherhood. However, if Alex ever got his hands on him now then Hank doubted he would turn him over to Sean. Not for a few hours anyway.

Of course, from Jean's broken words, Black Tom had been going after the telepath instead. It made sense really, especially if Emma had been there. He couldn't help trying to visualize the fight. Perhaps Azazel had been there too, which might explain the limited amount of time Jean had to act before Black Tom appeared before her.

From what Hank remembered Clarice was the one that they usually tried to throw Azazel's way; he had a difficult time resisting the challenge of fighting another teleporter. They'd all figured this out quickly, and Hank had tried to impart to Clarice what he knew about fighting Azazel. She was still alive, so it must have taken.

Hank began to stitch Scott up, the delicate tissue repaired. He continued to use disinfectant; having that wound get infected would be a nightmare. The wound was, in and of itself, already a nightmare, but not an unfamiliar one. Alex had always been a major target when they were younger, his mutation capable of taking out multiple targets at once. This had led to some terrible wounds.

He supposed that Scott was going to have the same problem. Ororo and Scott were the real power houses of the new team, and that sort of thing drew attention. It was especially bad when they were doing a mission so far from New York. He believed that the Brotherhood was doing it on purpose.

If they hadn't been able to make it to Hank then he had no doubt that Scott would've died en route to the next place. Jean had medical training, more than the basic first aide they gave all of the X-men, and that was probably the only reason he'd made it as far as he had. Scott's injuries were far beyond her capabilities though, which was why they'd had to make do.

However, it was also clear that Jean was on the verge of hysteria. At seventeen she hadn't perfected the calm detachment needed to deal with these situations. Hank didn't blame her; it had taken him years. Jean wasn't the only one in the new wave of X-men who hadn't perfected it either. None of them had. He figured that Scott and Clarice were the closest to doing so, but he could still see the shock pattern etched in Clarice's eyes, and Scott's attitude was irrelevant at the time.

It was why Alex was still with the small group. In many ways Alex was the perfect X-man. He knew that Alex had rebelled against the idea of leaving his wounded brother in surgery, but he had gritted his teeth and borne it. He'd had time getting used to leaving the room on one of the few occasions that Sean had been injured. He understood the reason and knew he had to act upon it. The younger X-men still didn't. They still needed supervision.

Hank finished stitching up Scott. From across the room he saw Carly lean back in her chair, the blood transfusion leaving her weak. He turned back to his work, trying not to think about the repercussions that the events of the night would have on their relationship. Hank hadn't lied to her, but he knew that there was little difference between lying and keeping the truth from someone.

He washed his hands and walked over to Carly. Jean was still near her, finishing bandaging up her arm where she'd given blood. He cleared his throat.

"Carly, are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said.

Her voice was shaky. Hank looked at Jean, who gave him a confused look in return. He wanted her to leave, but he didn't know how to ask her to leave her wounded boyfriend. It wasn't the type of thing that they taught in medical school, and it wasn't something that he had mastered from the X-men.

"Marvel Girl," Hank said, "It might be better if you give us a few minutes."

Jean paused, her eyes drifting over to Scott.

"Aren't you going to tell his brother how he's doing?" she asked.

Her voice was almost desperate. Hank rubbed his temples. Despite the fact that it was a blatant attempt for him to allow her to stay in the room, she was right. Alex would want a full status report of how his brother was doing, and then he would be able to brief the team. They were probably shook up already.

"I suppose so," he said.

Jean smiled. Carly inclined her head towards the door.

"We can talk when you get back," she said.

Hank forced a smile onto his face. Choosing to ignore Jean's presence he reached out and cupped her face. She smiled back.

"I'll be waiting," she said.

She didn't sound angry; merely confused and perhaps sad. It hurt him that she felt that way, but it was better than the alternative. Hank wondered why he thought she would be angry. Carly was too kind and gentle. She would give him a chance to explain what was going on, and Hank couldn't help but be grateful for that.

As he left the room Hank vowed that he would tell her everything, every last solitary scrap of information about his time as an X-men. He would tell her about Cuba and beyond, to the point where she might not believe him. He would show her photographs; tell her the absolute truth as he understood it.

After everything that she had done for him, she deserved the truth.


	15. Chapter 15

"Thank you for doing this," Marvel Girl said.

Carly looked up at her and smiled. They really had needed a lot of blood and she felt a little dizzy. Still, she didn't need to go to sleep just yet. Some sugary snacks and fruit in the morning and she would be able to go to work on time. At least she hoped so.

"It's nothing," Carly said.

"No, it isn't," Marvel Girl said, "You just saved Sc-Cyclops's life."

Marvel Girl looked at her, almost as though she was wondering if she caught her slip. Carly pretended like she hadn't heard. She had no idea why Marvel Girl or any of the others felt the need to use codenames around her, and she didn't want to know.

"It's alright," she said.

Marvel Girl walked over and sat by Cyclops. She reached out and took his hand.

"He obviously means very much to you," Carly said.

Marvel Girl gave a weak smile.

"We…we've…life gets crazy, life gets tough, and he's there," she said.

Carly nodded. The same thing could be said about Hank. Of course, thinking about Hank made her sigh and rub her temples. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling tired, and not just from the blood transfusion. There was still uncertainty in her about the appearance of five militaristic teenagers, one injured, and their harsh leader.

She would have to ask Hank. Carly wondered what would happen if he refused to tell her. He wouldn't like it, but if he felt that it wasn't his to tell then she got the feeling that he wouldn't. He was a man of integrity. Carly knew that that meant that she would always be missing a chunk of his life if he did. Perhaps that was what wives of military officers felt.

When she opened her eyes she saw Marvel Girl looked over at her with curiosity. She returned the gaze and Marvel Girl blushed before looking down.

"Sorry," she said.

"It's alright," Carly said.

Marvel Girl gave her another side glance.

"I just um…you work here?" she asked.

Carly shook her head. Marvel Girl blinked at her.

"Then…what are you doing here?" she asked.

The tone wasn't accusatory, but Carly winced all the same. She had the feeling that she was an outsider, looking in on something that she hadn't been supposed to see.

"Hank and I are together," she said.

Marvel Girl's jaw dropped open. Carly rubbed her temples again. She felt far too tired to get defensive.

"That's great!"

She looked up. Marvel Girl's eyes were sparkling, her lips turned up in a smile.

"I can't believe he didn't mention this sooner!" Marvel Girl said, "I just always assumed...I mean, I can't believe this!"

Carly wondered if Marvel Girl's smile hurt her ears.

"It's just, he's always seemed so alone," she said, "And the idea that you two are together, well…"

She trailed off and looked down. Carly continued to stare at her, her expression blank. It was difficult to do anything else.

"I'm making you uncomfortable, aren't I?" Marvel Girl said.

"Not really," Carly said.

"It's okay if I am," Marvel Girl said, "I know that I tend to go on and on sometimes."

"Well, maybe a little," Carly said.

Marvel Girl smiled, her expression awkward.

"I tend to do that sometimes," she said, "I uh, didn't have a chance to get out much before I went to the Institute. I used to have these headaches."

Marvel Girl stopped talking, as though that in and of itself should be an explanation. Carly decided not to press further.

"So, how do you know Hank?" she asked.

"Well, he was one of my teachers," Marvel Girl said.

Her voice was very matter-of-fact.

"You mean, at the medical university he worked at?" Carly said, "Aren't you a little young for that?"

"No, I wish but no, the other one," Marvel Girl said.

Carly continued to stare at her. Marvel Girl began to chew on her bottom lip, her fingers flexing against Cyclops's.

"He hasn't told you?" she asked.

"I guess not," Carly said.

Marvel Girl frowned.

"Sorry," she said.

Carly didn't know what that meant, but she decided it was best not to say anything. She pushed herself up from the chair and walked over to the table that Cyclops was on.

"Any signs that he's coming around?" Carly asked.

"He should be out for another two hours," Marvel Girl said, "Hank decided to play it safe with the anesthesia, and Cyclops has always been pretty good when he's been put under."

Carly blinked.

"This has happened before?" she asked.

"Well, not to this level," Marvel Girl said.

Her voice softened.

"But yeah, it has happened."

Carly gripped the sides of the table.

"You can't be older than seventeen," she said.

Marvel Girl opened her mouth, perhaps to divulge her real age, but she stopped.

"I don't see what that has to do with it," she said.

Carly shook her head.

"You're so young," she said.

Marvel Girl shrugged, her fingers tracing patterns on the back of Cyclops's hand.

"We all have to grow up sometime, and some of us have to do it sooner than others," Marvel Girl said, "And once we make the choice to grow up, well, there really isn't any going back from that."

She shrugged again.

"And if we didn't know just what we were getting into, then it's too bad," Marvel Girl said, "It's not like Havok didn't warn us plenty before we joined."

"Havok?" Carly asked.

"The one in the coat," she said.

Marvel Girl looked back at Carly, her face defiant.

"I don't regret the choices I've made," she said.

"I can tell that," Carly said.

Marvel Girl looked at her for a moment more before smiling.

"I can see why Hank likes you," she said, "You trust that people are telling the truth."

Her eyes softened.

"None of us get much of that," she said.

Carly closed her eyes for a minute, remembering how she had felt realizing that Hank had always felt like he had to be someone else. At the time she had only thought of it in relation to the man that she loved. Now, with Marvel Girl, she wondered if it was a feeling that all mutants shared.

She opened her eyes again.

"I'm sorry," she said.

* * *

"Is he going to be alright?" Alex asked.

Hank nodded. Tension left Alex's shoulders, and Hank could see the other members of the team relax as well. They had all done a passable job of looking uninterested and composed when he came out, but Hank had seen their eyes swivel towards him when he walked out into the hallway. He would have been disappointed and angry if they hadn't.

"He'll be out for another few hours," Hank said, "And he's off missions and Danger Room sessions for at least four months. I don't care if you have to tie him to the bed, get him his rest."

Considering that he was a Summers Hank figured his orders would have to be taken literally.

"Alright," Alex said.

"Make sure he gets plenty of rest and clean the stitches twice daily," Hank said.

"Got it," Alex said.

Alex put his arm around Hank's shoulder. The two of them walked down the hall, outside of the hearing of the rest of the teens.

"How close was it?" Alex asked.

"Very, although not as much as you would think," Hank said.

"Thank God you were up," Alex said.

He rubbed his temples.

"I'm going to have to yell at Jean when we get back to the Institute," Alex said, "I'm not looking forward to it."

Hank nodded. Jean had been on the verge of panic and, as the only member of the team who had advanced medical training, she had been the only one who could have helped Hank. The tasks that he had assigned her had been simple enough, but Hank had been wary about assigning her anything more difficult. If he had needed to then he wasn't sure if she could have completed the tasks.

"She should rest tonight though," Alex said, "Her and Scott. I'll wait until tomorrow afternoon, when she can see just what could have happened."

His hand left his forehead.

"I'm glad you were here Hank," he said.

"Any time," Hank said, "Any time."

Alex grinned and then put his hands into his pockets, his face becoming speculative.

"So," he said, "if that woman isn't on your staff, who is she?"

Hank winced. He wondered when Alex would ask.

"My…girlfriend," he said.

Hank hated the word. It sounded far too crass while lover sounded far too artificial. Alex's eyes widened before his grin widened.

"No shit?" he said.

"Yes," Hank said.

Alex punched him on the shoulder. Hank winced again; Alex had a tendency of punching too hard.

"That is awesome!" Alex said.

"She's amazing," Hank said.

He tried to keep his voice low, tried not to make it into a production. Alex seemed like he was two steps away from hooting and hollering though.

"How's it going?" he asked, "Is it serious?"

Hank hesitated.

"We're living together," he said.

Alex's jaw dropped.

"Seriously?" he asked.

"Seriously," Hank said.

Alex crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. Some of his jubilation disappeared and his expression became thoughtful.

"And I've met her for the first time tonight…why?" he asked.

Hank sighed.

"To be honest I didn't want to overwhelm her," Hank said, "We've only been together for a few months."

"But you're living together," Alex said.

"I know," Hank said, "I didn't want to come on too strong."

"Have you met her parents?" Alex asked.

Hank shook his head.

"That's not an option," he said.

"Oh," Alex said.

He nodded, grateful that Alex understood.

"And now…well…I wasn't sure if I could…or should…tell her about all this."

He waved his hand around. Alex frowned.

"It's kinda unavoidable now," he said, "Besides, you know that we'd all love to meet her Hank."

Alex laughed.

"Hell, I think even Sean would come up for this."

"I suppose it is time," Hank said.

Hank supposed his doubt showed on his face. Alex punched him on the shoulder again.

"I've been telling you for years," Alex said, "you need more confidence."

Hank gave a weak smile.

"She says that too," he said.

"I like her already," Alex said.

Hank laughed, just as the sound of shattering glass reached his ears. He swiveled around the way he'd come. He could see the other teens rushing towards the examination room, their expressions confused and their eyes wide. Without looking back at Alex he hurried down the hallway thinking of his former students inside, but first and foremost thinking about the room's other occupant.


	16. Chapter 16

Carly was knocked to the floor. She put her hands out and slid, narrowly avoiding hitting her head on the floor. The hall door was opened, probably by one of the teens, but a blast of heat shut it, welding the fire closed. Carly looked up at the broken window where Marvel Girl was standing, dodging what appeared to be whips of light from a masked man.

It was obvious that Marvel Girl knew what she was doing. Her dodges and kicks were well timed, and Carly was shocked at how fast she moved. There was something very determined and deliberate about her movements, a soldier who had been taught to fight without weapons. However, from the way that the man with the whips was wincing and the objects that smashed into him, she had her own type of weapons.

Carly got to her feet, feeling shaky, and she saw a second man walk into the room, holding what she recognized as an Irish fighting stick or a shillelagh. He moved with a limp, but his hands and legs were heavily muscled. A black coat with a high collar and numerous silver buckles had been tossed around his shoulders. He dodged a chair that Marvel Girl threw at him, her face collected but her lips pursed together.

He thrust the stick out and a burning beam shot from it. Marvel Girl dodged it and it hit the wall, the heat singeing the wallpaper. Carly looked up again, Hank and Alex's conversation echoing in her mind. Cyclops had been stabbed by someone with a shillelagh and she had a sinking feeling that she was meeting him.

One of the other man's whips wrapped around Marvel Girl's arm, forcing her to the floor. Sparks lit up around the coil, making Marvel Girl grit her teeth in pain. Black Tom, she supposed, raised the shillelagh towards her. Marvel Girl was too busy kicking the man in front of her to notice. Forcing her feet to move Carly rammed into him, sending him to the ground and the stick spiraling out of his hand.

* * *

"Why isn't the damn door open yet?" Alex demanded, skidding to a halt in front of the teens.

Hank could see that Warren and Ororo were trying to break it open. Clarice leaned up against the wall, her eyes wide. It was obvious that she was almost too weak to stand, let alone teleport or help break down the door. He nodded to her once before pushing Warren and Ororo out of the way, even as Ororo tried to explain.

He rammed his shoulder against the door. There was a slight jolt of pain. He could feel it creak, but it wasn't enough.

"Your legs, not your shoulder!" Alex said, "You'll pull it!"

Hank rammed the door again, ignoring Alex's words. It shouldn't be this difficult. He'd brought down doors that were much thicker and secure than the one in front of him. It was built to survive fire, not Hank's strength. The man who had built the apartment complex had been a paranoid one, imagining dangers at every turn. Hank had never regretted the extra safety features until that moment.

"They've done something to the door," Hank growled, "Jammed it somehow."

From the other side of the door he could hear the sounds of battle.

"We have a few seconds to figure this out," Alex said, his voice edgy but not panicked, "Jean's fully trained."

Hank rammed the door again.

"But Carly isn't."

* * *

The next thing she knew Carly was on her back and a fist made contact with her jaw. Already weak from blood loss she saw stars before she was thrown to the other side of the room. Using her hand as a shield she managed to avoid cracking her head open. When she looked up she saw that Black Tom had gotten his shillelagh back and was looking at her with a strange mixture of contempt and curiosity.

"Now who are you?" he asked.

Carly recognized the vague Irish accent, although she could tell that it had been severely watered down with the years. She swallowed and pushed herself up into a sitting position. Marvel Girl was looking her way, but she was trying to keep from being overwhelmed by the man with the whips. Carly could hear banging on the door, and she saw several cracks appear in both the door and the wall.

Black Tom noticed too. He turned his head towards the door and Carly moved towards Cyclops. He was still out cold, still defenseless.

"You don't get to turn your back on me that easy."

She felt his hand grip her arm as he jerked her around. He shoved her back, causing her to crash into the hospital cot, jostling the unconcious Cyclops. Carly swallowed as he watched her, amused.

"Step out of the way now," he said.

Carly gripped the sides of the hospital bed to steady herself.

"Why?" she asked.

"I don't know who you are," Black Tom said, "Making you unimportant. So kindly get out of the way of the real players."

Carly glanced back at Cyclops.

"He came here for treatment," she said.

"Yes, and now he's going to be leaving," Black Tom said.

The cracks in the door became more pronounced. She heard something that sounded almost like a growl on the other side of the door. Marvel Girl was still struggling with the man with the whips, but Carly noted that his face was bloody from her fists. She kept trying to get passed him, her eyes fixed on Cyclops.

"So stand aside," he said, "I do try to make it a habit not to hit women more than necessary."

Carly stood up, making eye contact with Black Tom. Her hands were trembling, but she just gripped the rails on the bed tighter to hide it.

"It's pointless you know," he said.

"I'd prefer pointless to just walking away," Carly said.

Black Tom rolled his eyes. He lashed out with his hand, knocking Carly to the ground. She looked up and Black Tom pointed his shillelagh at her again.

"Why does everyone say that?" he said.

The shillelagh began to glow. Carly swallowed, trying to think of something to do. Then, the silver buckles on Black Tom's coat began to vibrate. He looked down at them, his face growing pale, before he was suddenly forced to the ground. A voice drifted in, harsh and angry, from the other side of the room.

"Because, unlike you, some people have honor."

* * *

Hank had to fight back a scream of frustration. The door was coming down, but it wasn't coming anywhere near fast enough. A hand fell on his shoulder.

"I hoped it wouldn't come to this, I didn't want to risk hurting anyone, but we're out of time," Alex said, "Stand back."

Hank moved away from the door as fast as possible. Red light began to gather in Alex's chestplate, flooding into his hands. Gone were the days when Alex had only been able to make shots from his chest. He'd gotten enough control to allow it to gather in his hands, to channel it into his punches.

Now he blasted it forwards. The door glowed bright white before it shattered, tendrils of smoke coming from the door frame. Hank charged forward, his fur singeing from the heat that still poured off the walls. The heat was a constant presence, but he couldn't afford to pay it any mind. Not when Carly had been locked into the room with God only knew who.

He saw Senyaka, his own whips tangling around his throat. Jean had both of her hands out, her telepathic abilities serving to keep him into place. He saw Black Tom, who had been knocked to the floor, his lip split and his eyes furious. Cyclops was still on the medical cot, his eyes closed, oblivious to the commotion around him.

He saw Carly on the floor, her head tilted up and her eyes wide. After that any other sight simply slipped through his mind like water through a leaky bucket. She was the only one who hadn't been built for the life that was in front of her, had never been exposed to the violence and battles of an unknown war. Hank rushed to her side, putting his arms around her and snarling upwards.

"There's no need for that."

His eyes blinked and his vision cleared. A long purple coat touched the floor, the hems edged in red. Black boots had been laced up with care, going over purple pants. A Kevlar-enforced purple and red bodice with a purple shirt underneath it had been laced up. As he watched, hands were crossed over the chest, showing the black leather grip gloves that its owner was wearing.

Hank narrowed his eyes further. He knew who it was, even though it had been a long time since he had last been in the X-men. Someone like this, with body armor which they seemed disdainful of and yet were forced to wear and an air of command, would stick in his memory.

"What exactly are you and your people doing here Magnetrix?" he demanded.

Magnetrix tilted her head upwards, her green hair swirling around her. She glanced over her shoulder as Alex entered the room, his hands still aglow with his red light.

"I said there's no need for that," she said.

Her voice was reasonable, just like Hank remembered it.

"I haven't come here to attack you, either of you," she said, "I'm just here to collect some people."

"So you're still your father's errand girl," Alex said.

"Well, if that's true," Magnetrix said, her voice pleasant, "Then you're Xavier's. But it appears that I need to remind some of my compatriots that have done some things they shouldn't have."

Her eyes narrowed on Black Tom.

"Like attacking people in hospitals," she said.

Black Tom's eyes were livid, spittle growing on his lip.

"You would throw away every opportunity to decrease their numbers," he sneered, "Chasing after them while their wounded is the way that you're too scared to take."

Magnetrix folded her arms and spun on her heel to him.

"Shut up," she said, "You tried to murder someone directly after they were operated on, while they were still in the hospital. This is something, as I specifically remember, that you were forbidden to do."

Black Tom wiggled on the floor. Hank could see where the metal snaps of his coat were glued there. Magnetrix looked around.

"Did they hurt anyone?" she asked.

"No, but not for lack of trying," Jean said.

Magnetrix's face hardened.

"I see," she said, her voice tight.

She glanced over at Carly. Hank held her closer. He could see that a bruise was blossoming on her face, and for that alone Hank wanted to rip Black Tom's throat out. Another snarl was rising in his throat. It was a struggle for him to keep it down, to break the fragile truce that Magnetrix was holding.

Magnetrix's voice gentled.

"I'm sorry miss," she said, "These sorts of things aren't supposed to happen."

"But they do!" Warren snapped.

Magnetrix looked down.

"Yeah, they do," she said.

She shook her head once, her green hair briefly becoming a cloud. Magnetrix put her fingers to her lips, and a piercing whistle filling the air. Hank winced as Azazel appeared in a cloud of black smoke next to Magnetrix. He looked around him and snorted, his expression derisive, that of a master in a room full of school children.

"We're going," Magnetrix said, "And Marvel Girl, I would appreciate it if you would let Senyaka go. There's been enough fighting tonight."

Jean glanced at Alex, who nodded, his expression tight. Senyaka dropped to the floor, glaring at Jean. He walked next to Black Tom, putting his hand on his back. Azazel grabbed his other hand, his tail swishing behind him. Magnetrix held Azazel's spare hand and looked back at the X-men.

"I am sorry about this," she said, "You know my father doesn't-"

"I don't care. Keep your damn people in line," Alex snapped.

Magnetrix glanced at Azazel and nodded. In a flash of smoke the small group disappeared. Jean slumped and Warren went over to see if she was alright. Alex went to Scott's side, as if to ascertain for himself whether or not he'd been hurt. Hank turned so he could look at Carly.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Carly closed her eyes for a moment before opening them. She nodded, although Hank could see that the gesture was shaky.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I'm fine Hank," she said.

Her words seemed glassy somehow. Hank swallowed and helped her to her feet. All in all, the night hadn't been the best way to introduce her to his former life.

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Bet some of you thought that would be Magneto, didn't you? There'll be more on Magnetrix, aka Lorna Dane, much later. I thought I'd try something new there. ;)_


	17. Chapter 17

"So what caused the fire?"

Hank shrugged.

"I think that one of the lights short circuited," he said, "I can't be sure of that though. No one was actually in the room when it started."

The fireman nodded and began writing in his notebook. Now that the X-men and Brotherhood were gone Hank'd had to find a reasonable explanation for the scorch marks. Alex had promised to pay, but Hank couldn't blame him for anything beyond the broken window, since he knew that Alex knew how to pick locks. The window had been attributed to Carly tripping and the glass being brittle due to the heat.

All in all, it wasn't a bad story.

"It's a good thing that you were doing late night paperwork," the fireman said, "I don't normally say that when there's a fire, but if you hadn't doused this it could've destroyed the whole building. As it is you'll just have to tape off that area until you get it repaired."

Hank remembered dousing the area with water, allowing it to mix with the soot so that it looked as though it had been there for a while. He'd explained that he'd broken through the door to get through the fire, and he'd singed the broken glass so it looked like a heat eruption. He was lucky that he had gotten his fur somewhat singed when he went through the door frame. It seemed to lend credence to his story.

"Anyone hurt?"

He shook his head and brushed off some soot.

"Just some blackened fur for me," he said, "And Carly fell and hit her face on the way out. I believe that she is undergoing a minor form of shock."

He looked behind him. Carly was sitting on the footsteps of the clinic, a blanket wrapped around her. Her eyes were staring straight ahead. Hank was worried about her, but he had to talk to the fireman first. Her eyes weren't glazed over, which meant that, in the very least, she was alert.

"She was close to it when the fire broke out," Hank said, "I really didn't need to do much when I got there, she had already put most of it out, but I think that she might also be going through some slight smoke inhalation."

"Normally I'd say get her to a doctor," the fireman said, "but she lives with you, doesn't she?"

"She does," Hank said.

"Then it'll probably be alright if you take her home," he said.

Hank nodded. He walked over to Carly and helped her to her feet. The sun was rising, which meant that it was almost time for her to go to work. He would call her workplace and tell them the story that he'd told the firemen. He'd already called Paul and found out that the clinic would be closed for that day. They would have to look at getting that room repaired.

She leaned on him as she walked. Hank held her tightly. He was glad that he was going to be able to stay with her for the next day. There was a lot to talk about, but that would have to wait. Carly was exhausted. People hadn't been built to give large quantities of blood and then have to fight terrorists mere minutes afterwards.

"I'm going to call the Sherriff's department when we get back," Hank said, "There's no way you can go to work today."

Carly nodded. Her grip on Hank's arm tightened, although she continued to look distant. Hank swallowed, feeling somewhat at a loss. He couldn't explain what had happened just yet; not until she was rested. Then again, he wondered if he was just stalling, trying to uphold some semblance of normality.

True to Alex's word, the front door of his house was open. Hank could see where the lock had been forced, rather sloppily. Alex was better than that. He might have kept it together in front of the teens, but it was obvious to Hank that he was falling apart at the thought of his brother in danger.

He would be hurt if anything happened to any member of his team, despite his strict methods, but Scott was the brother that had been miraculously returned to him. When Alex truly cared about someone he poured everything he had into it. The only problem was that so few people warranted that attention from him.

Hank still remembered when they had first brought in the new team as their successors. Hank had been just about to leave. Sean would, in around a year's time, drift away and take a job with Interpol. In the two years that followed Hank had seen him about five times, and not for very long. He corresponded with him, but Sean had never been very good at keeping up with letters.

Hank had felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu back then, watching the five teens awkwardly mill about the Danger Room. After they had expressed their desire to be X-men Charles had put them through two weeks of Danger Room simulations to find out if their mutations translated onto the field.

That first day, where they had all had to work as a team for the first time, hadn't gone well. Hank had glanced at Alex and Sean, who were obviously remembering their first simulations. He knew the only thought going through his head was how they hadn't worked very well as a team at first either.

Now the small group of teens had gelled and Alex had a team that, from what Hank had seen, was combat ready. He wondered if Alex would retire from field missions when they were ready to do missions without supervision. It didn't sound like him, but he might have to cede control to a new member one day, probably to Scott if what Hank had heard was true. Perhaps he might enjoy a peaceful teaching position.

Hank opened the door to the house. Carly was still silent, her eyes staring blankly ahead. Hank led her up the stairs to her room, uncertain about what he should do next. Luckily Carly turned away from him and went into the bathroom. A moment later he could hear the water running. It appeared that she wasn't in a full state of shock, which he couldn't help but be grateful for.

He walked to the next room and picked up a phone. He'd have to tell the Sherriff's department that Carly wouldn't be in that day.

* * *

Carly finished drying her hair and wrapped the towel tighter around her. The steam in the room clouded up the mirror, and she wiped it away. She wondered how, after everything that had happened, she could be so calm. Her hands had stopped shaking a long time ago, although she continued to replay what happened in her head.

The bruise on her cheek seemed darker and she could see that the bruise on her jaw was blossoming as well. She took a deep breath. It was difficult to admit that she had nearly died. If Magnetrix hadn't come in at the last moment, then she had no doubt that she would have, in the very least, been seriously injured. Straight-out death was probably more likely.

It was not the kind of thought that she wanted. Carly had been a secretary at a small firm in Boston. The most dangerous thing that happened in her life had been when she had stapled her hand once. After that she had come to a small, sleepy town with the hope of gaining her sight. She had gotten into a relationship with a man that she knew was a target of suspicion and hate, but Carly had never thought that the events of the last night would come to pass.

Whatever life he'd had was the complete opposite of hers. She'd lived what she thought was a normal life, separated from the violence of the world around her. Carly had never really thought of herself as sheltered, but now she had the strange feeling that she was. Compared to someone like Hank she felt weak too.

She touched the bruise on her cheek and took a deep breath. She loved Hank. Nothing he told her was going to change that. The months had passed and she had already become deeply committed to their relationship. However, part of her wondered whether or not she could survive with his world touching hers. She had never really thought of it as a problem, as something that would ever cause hurt. She'd thought their worlds were alike.

Carly took her hand away from her bruise. Her movements slow, she changed into her nightgown and walked into her room. She could hear Hank finishing up on the phone in the hallway. Shivering Carly got beneath the covers. The sun was up and she drew the curtains with her foot so that the light wouldn't stream in. The metal rings made a clinking noise as she did so, and she heard Hank click off the phone.

"Carly?" he asked.

She laid her head down on the pillow as Hank walked into the room. She felt exhausted, but she knew that she couldn't get to sleep. Not yet.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Carly looked up at him, feeling uncertain. She swallowed once and looked up at him. His golden eyes were fixed on her, full of concern. The look nearly undid her, the strange events of the previous night filling her head and making her shiver. Tears filled her eyes but she refused to cry.

She reached for him and he came to her side. Carly paused for a minute before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He stiffened immediately.

"Carly…" he said.

"Just hold me for a little while," Carly whispered.

She could see the hesitation in his face and Carly felt her heart break for him all over again. Despite the fact that he knew she loved him it was plain to see that he still expected her to push him away. Carly had tried to make it easier for him to accept her touch as time went on. She knew that what she was asking was a huge leap for Hank, but she couldn't wait for him. Not this time.

He laid down next to her and circled his arms around her. She rested her head beneath his chin, listening to his calming breathing for a moment.

"Hank," she said, "What happened? Who were those people?"

He hesitated, swallowing.

"The people who attacked us are called the Brotherhood of Mutants," he said, "They were formed by a man I once knew who believes that a war between humans and mutants is imminent. His name is…well…he calls himself Magneto. He believes that by taking action before it starts they will win. As such they are considered terrorists."

"And are they?" Carly asked.

"Yes," Hank said, "I believe that their actions are bringing the war closer to us, making people fear us. The people tonight were members of that Brotherhood. Senyaka, the man with the whips, is a recent recruit. He doesn't have much initiative. He probably was only there because Black Tom asked for back-up."

"Is that his real name?" Carly asked.

She could tell that her voice was flat, almost devoid of emotion. She wished it wasn't so, but she felt detached somehow.

"His real name is Thomas Cassidy, a mutant with heat powers. Needs a wooden medium to make it work though," Hank sighed, "Unfortunately he is the cousin of a close friend of mine. The apple falls very far from the tree though. My friend's name is Sean. He wasn't here last night, which is fortunate because the fight could have escalated if he was. The two of them hate each other."

He shifted. She felt one of his hands run through her hair.

"The man who looked like the Devil is known as Azazel," Hank said, "I'm not sure if that's his real name or not. I suppose it doesn't matter. He's been with Magneto almost since the beginning."

Carly buried her face further into Hank's fur. It felt comforting somehow.

"As for the woman, she's Magneto's daughter," Hank said, "She surfaced around three years ago. We don't know her real name, we can only guess that she's around twenty, but she calls herself Magnetrix and whenever she's near Magneto it's clear to see that she's his daughter."

"She said she was sorry," Carly said, trying to wrap her head around the new information.

"Yes, she did," Hank said, "It's one of the reasons that she's so puzzling. She is a Brotherhood member though. We've never doubted that."

Carly nodded, feeling strange.

"And the rest?" she asked.

Hank sighed.

"They're called the X-men."

She listened as he talked about being a young teenager with a strange mutation, trying to find a place in the world for himself and his kind. He talked about fighting, about healing those who fought, and trying to stop others. Carly bit her lip when he talked about Cuba, about a thousand other battles that he had fought.

"My closest friends are still the ones that I made in that group," Hank said, "And sometimes they come to me for help. I may not really be a part of that group any more, but I refuse to turn them away. And as such last night occurred."

He cupped her cheek.

"I'm sorry that you were hurt," he said, "I never wanted that."

Carly struggled for a minute before finding her voice.

"It's not that bad," she said.

"Not that bad?" Hank said, his voice both shocked and desperate, "Carly you almost died last night!"

"I know," Carly said.

"And…and I can't guarantee that it won't happen again," Hank said.

His voice was pained.

"I know that too," Carly said.

She looked up, locking her eyes with his.

"But I have all of you now," she said, "And I'm not letting go."

Hank stared at her for a moment before pulling her close, her face buried in his fur.

"I never want you to," he said.


	18. Chapter 18

April 2, 1973

Hank woke up. Carly was curled up next to him, the soft cloth of her pajamas brushing up against his face. Ever since that first morning he'd found himself sleeping next to her every night. She'd just about moved all of her things into his room. Neither of them had said anything out loud, but it did seem that something subtle but important had shifted in their relationship.

He looked at the clock and let his eyes trail to the light filtering from beneath the curtains. It was the weekend, one of the few where both of their days off coincided. It meant that Hank could sleep in. He never did though; his body clock fiercely regulated his sleep. Many times, in order not to wake the woman lying beside him, he just laid there for an hour or two, letting his mind wander.

The night where the X-men and the Brotherhood had fought seemed far away now. The examination room that had been destroyed had been repaired, as had the windows. The contractors had left a long time ago. Carly's bruises had faded from her face and the fur that had been singed had grown back, leaving no traces.

However, Hank couldn't stop thinking about it. Hank had known how close he'd come to losing Carly that night. He hadn't expected that he would be comfortable in thinking about it, but he'd been close to losing other people before. It hadn't harped on him so much, hadn't preyed on his thoughts.

The rather disturbing thought had also occurred to him that he was in a position when he could no longer live without Carly. Her smile and touch had become as much a part of his life as breathing. He didn't want to go back to how his life had been like before she had arrived in it. He couldn't bear to live like that anymore.

It was why he had selfishly given in when she had affirmed that she was staying with him. He supposed someone more noble would have argued with her, but Charles had tried that with Moira and it hadn't worked. He supposed that need, coupled with his knowledge of what had happened with Moira, had overridden his nobler tendencies.

The need was not a familiar sensation, which was surprising. Hank had needed people before. He'd needed his friends, the way they stood by him and supported him no matter what. There had been times when he'd needed Charles's mentorship or Moira's quiet advice. He'd needed to see the stability that their unit represented.

Carly had changed things. It hadn't come as a surprise to him. Hank had known that she would change things the minute he reached out and let her touch his hands and face. He'd never expected just how much she would change things though. Hank had never imagined living so close to another human being. Carly had said that she had all of him now, and she was right, just like he had all of her.

The thought both thrilled and terrified him. Why would she even want all of him, even after he had put her life in danger? Hank wished that he could stop asking himself those questions. However, years and years of his own self-doubts were not going to go away in a few months. Carly had made more headway than any other person he'd ever known, including Charles, but there was still some way left to go.

Hank didn't even know when he planned on letting her meet his family at Westchester. He'd tried to give her some breathing room between finding out that he'd been part of a militia and formally meeting them all. He knew that he should though. He hadn't had any contact with them since the incident, but he knew that Alex would have told Charles in the very least. Charles would try to give him his own space, but he'd be curious. It was what family did.

He brushed away those questions and tried to clear his mind. However, other, unfinished thoughts floated through his brain. They weren't doubts so he let them start to take root. He knew that he had to do something with what he knew. Carly didn't just have his heart, she had his mind and his past. He had a sneaking suspicion that she held his future as well. Hank just didn't know what to do with that information.

Hank closed his eyes, listening to Carly's quiet breathing. He was out of his depth and floundering. Hank swallowed. He needed advice and, given what he knew, there was only one person he could go to for such advice on this particular matter. He gently disentangled himself from Carly and headed downstairs.

He picked up his old phone book and flipped through the pages. It had been another going away gift, a way for them to all stay close no matter where the road took him. He hesitated when he found the number that had been written into the book with elegant copperplate writing. Hank bit his lip once before dialing it.

Hank cradled the phone to his ear and asked the operator to connect him. He bit his lip, waiting, as he heard the ringing on the other end. The time difference between them was negligible, but he knew that it might be enough to keep him away from his phone. Hank didn't know when he'd get another chance when Carly wasn't nearby that day.

"Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters. Headmaster Charles Xavier."

"Charles, it's Hank."

He could almost hear him smile on the other side of the phone.

"Hank!" he said, "How good to hear from you. I…"

He heard him sigh.

"I am sorry about what happened the other week," Charles said.

"No, these things happen," Hank said, "They needed my help, and I was there to provide it."

"I see," Charles said.

There was a pause.

"You're going to ask about Carly, aren't you?" Hank asked.

"I would like to," Charles said, "But I won't if you ask me not to. You always were very private."

"Not when it came to sticking my nose into other's people's business," Hank said, rubbing his forehead, "But I actually called to talk to you about her."

"Really?" Charles said.

He sounded excited.

"Yes…you see…I…" Hank said.

He faltered, desperately searching for words.

"I…I don't know when to begin," he said.

He couldn't help feeling lost.

"I see," Charles said.

"Do you?" asked Hank.

"I do actually," Charles said, "It wasn't that long ago that I was in a similar position to yourself."

"How do you know it's the same problem?" Hank asked.

Charles laughed.

"Because I remember words failing me too," he said, "Only those words were failing me with the woman in question."

Hank managed a smile.

"Hank, you know that our life, both as mutants and as members of the X-men, current or former, is not a safe one," Charles said, "And you know that before you bring someone into that life, mutant or otherwise, it's only fair to think very carefully about if you want to expose them to that."

Hank nodded. Charles's voice was calm and gentle and Hank felt that he was back at the Institute, back in his lab.

"At the same time, their choice is the one that has the final say about how they view the danger," Charles said, "And sometimes they make the choice before you get the chance to think about it."

"I understand," Hank said.

"And now that she knows about the X-men, how does she feel about it?" Charles asked.

Hank closed his eyes.

"She's still with me," he said.

"Alright," Charles said, "And how do you feel about her?"

Swallowing hard Hank looked down.

"Charles…she's changed my life," he said, "There's so much about her…it feels as though I've found the last piece of my life's puzzle. I just…"

He ran one of his hands through his fur.

"I can't bear the thought of living without her."

There was another pause.

"I met a woman like that once," Charles said, his voice quiet, "And so did Sean."

"Then you're saying-?" Hank began.

"Yes," Charles said.

"Despite everything?"

He heard his mentor sigh.

"There's no way to know what's going to happen," Charles said, "Whether you waste time like I did or seize the moment like Sean, then you still have no guarantees. The only real thing that you can do is know that, no matter what happened, you took the risk and chased after happiness. We all deserve it just like anyone else."

Hank swallowed and closed his eyes.

"Thank you," he said.

"I always make time for my old students," Charles said.

He heard Charles shift the phone.

"By the by," he said, "is there any chance that we'll be able to meet Carly soon?"

Hank managed a dry laugh.

"Of course there is," Hank said, "But if you'll excuse me, I have to go and run some errands."

"I understand," Charles said, "Good luck Hank."

"I certainly hope so."

Hank hung up and took a deep breath. Opening his eyes he got up and got changed. He needed to go out. There was no point in wasting any more time.

* * *

When Carly woke up she was puzzled by Hank's absence. He'd have left her a note if there had been an emergency at the office. She looked at the clock. It was nearly eleven. She rubbed her eyes and got up. Carly couldn't believe that she had slept in so late. Hank hadn't woken her like he usually did.

She grabbed her pink bathrobe and put it over her shoulders. She managed to wash up and brush her hair before she heard the front door open. Carly headed towards teh stairs. She saw Hank standing in the living room, hanging up his coat on the coat rack. He jumped when he saw her, his eyes wide.

"You were out early," she said, yawning and walking down the stairs, "Are we out of milk or something?"

He continued to stare.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

Hank shook his head slowly.

"No, nothing's wrong," he said, "You just…you just look beautiful this morning. That's all."

Carly blushed and looked down. There was never anything feigned in his words, never anything to hint that he was telling her anything less than what he felt to be the truth.

"Not too bad yourself," she said.

He smiled gently and licked his lips. Carly cocked her head and walked towards him, wrapping her arms lazily around his neck.

"Where were you this morning?" she asked.

He smiled again and unwound her arms from his neck.

"I've been making a few decisions," he said.

Carly cocked her head. Hank dug into his pocket with one hand and knelt down. She felt the world slow as he gently gripped her wrists, his fingers running over the back of her hands.

"Hank?" she asked.

Hank looked up at her and she felt tears welling up in her eyes.

"I wondered how I should do this," Hank said, "But…fancy gestures, names written in the sky, the ring in the champagne glass…it's not…it's not how I want to do it."

Through the daze that was entering her mind she understood. Hank was a quiet man.

"That sort of thing isn't us," Hank said, "But the two of us, right here, with no distractions, nothing, that is."

Carly was aware that her eyes were still lidded with sleep, her feet were bare and she was in her nightgown and bathrobe. She wasn't even dressed for the day, let alone for accepting a marriage proposal. Yet, no matter what the state he wanted her. It didn't matter to him. A tear dropped down her cheek, followed by others.

"I should have asked this weeks ago," he said, "But…you were right. You have all of me, and I have all of you."

He let go of one of her wrists and dug into his pocket. The haze began to clear and a real sort of clarity came into her mind for the first time since Hank got down on his knees. Carly knew what she was going to see, knew the black velvet box before it came into her line of sight. He flipped the lid and she stared at the diamond ring, the gold setting like small petals around the stone, just like a rose.

"I want that forever," he said, "Carly, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Feeling choked Carly fell into Hank's arms, crying. He held her close, without any sign of stiffness or fear. She buried her head into his fur.

"Yes," she whispered, "Yes."


	19. Chapter 19

April 21, 1973

"I was wondering where we should have the wedding," Hank said.

His voice was tentative. Carly looked up from the leather planner that she had bought just for the occasion. She'd tried with a secretary's mind to balance what she thought each different area of their wedding needed budget-wise. Of course, she'd had to find out what they both thought was important beforehand.

They'd already decided that there would only be a few members of their friends and family. Many of Carly's friends had dropped away in the months that she had spent in Jasper, not that she'd had many in the first place. Living at home and trying to get through work had taken up most of her days, trying to keep up a precarious balance in her life.

They'd already invited Paul, who'd had to turn them down. With Hank out and no other doctors in their practice he would have to keep it open. He'd seemed happy for them though. Carly could still remember the grin on his face when Hank told him. He'd sworn to send a wedding gift and jokingly claimed a piece of the cake.

The location was still up in the air though. It wasn't going to be in Jasper though; it was too far away from anyone that they knew besides Paul. Carly hadn't decided on her dress either, but she figured that she had only been engaged for about two weeks. There would be time for that later.

"I don't know," she said, "We already decided it couldn't be Jasper, and I don't think that you're familiar enough with Boston. You know me; I'm up for new and exciting things. I'd like it to be in the States though. So, right now I don't really know."

Carly couldn't help but feel disorganized.

"We should send out invitations in about a month," she said, "so I don't think that there's too much of a rush."

She'd already decided that she didn't want a long engagement. Hank had been only too happy to oblige.

"So you don't know," Hank said.

Carly gave him a helpless shrug.

"Not really, no," she said.

She tapped her pen on the table.

"Do you have any ideas?" she said.

He hesitated.

"I was talking to Charles the other day," he said.

Carly nodded. Hank had told her the names and some information about the people who had so heavily influenced his life. She could only assume that they were going to be invited. It still kept their wedding party under twenty. She supposed that would make it easy on them. Carly didn't have any close relations to help her plan, and neither did Hank.

"And, well, I was thinking of having it in Westchester," Hank said.

Carly cocked her head. She had the feeling that a long conversation was about to ensue.

"Not necessarily at the Institute," Hank said, his voice hurried, "But, in that area."

"They'd let us?" Carly asked.

"Yes," Hank said, sitting down across from her, "The Institute has beautiful grounds. It's rare to find it as anything other than that. Even when it snows."

He paused.

"I know you wanted a minister and not a judge," Hank said.

Carly smiled and nodded as Hank continued.

"That's good," Hank said, "But I was wondering if you'd given any thought to having a church wedding."

She winced.

"It was an option," she said, "Of course, I'm not sure where we would do it in upstate New York. I haven't been there."

"That's something that I'll have to fix," Hank said, "I actually have some thoughts on that."

He smiled.

"Perhaps we could go up around two weeks before the wedding," Hank said, "I could introduce you to everyone, and we could settle on final plans."

Carly nodded. She could tell that the idea excited him, perhaps a delayed reaction to his initial reluctance to letting her into his other life. Now that she knew though, she had the feeling that he was trying to incorporate her as much as possible. It was a good feeling, being such a prominent priority in someone else's plans.

"As for venues, as I said, the gardens would be nice," Hank said, "We can get it for free too."

She laughed and Hank grinned.

"But I know that there are some halls and grand buildings in the general vicinity," he said, "And I happen to know that there's a church not far from where I taught. Charles and Moira got married there. So did Sean and Maeve."

His voice became quiet as he mentioned the second couple. Carly frowned, trying to remember who they were.

"Sean, he's the one who screams right?" Carly asked.

Hank nodded. She racked her brain for the last name, but it remained foreign and unfamiliar.

"Who's Maeve though?" she asked, "I don't think you mentioned her."

"I didn't, no," Hank said.

He hesitated a moment before sighing.

"Maeve was Sean's wife," Hank said, "She was a local girl, her parents had immigrated from Ireland when she was around seven. They got married fairly young."

"How young?" Carly asked.

"Sean had turned eighteen a few months earlier, and Maeve was a little older than him, but not by more than a few months," Hank said, "It worked out well in that respect; her father wasn't too thrilled about the situation."

"That is young," Carly said.

Hank looked slightly uncomfortable.

"Well…the baby wasn't going to wait forever," he said.

"Oh," Carly said, "I see."

She counted back. The child would be around six. Carly had been eager to include Hank's 'family' in her plans for the wedding. David, Charles and Moira's child, was only two. He was too young to incorporate into the ceremony, but Sean's child would be just about the right age.

She smiled and picked up her pen.

"Are we having a ring bearer or a flower girl?" she asked.

Hank looked pained.

"Carly," he said, "When Maeve was pregnant…there was an accident, you see…and…well…"

He trailed off, as though searching for a way to force his words out. A deep horror welled up in her.

"He lost them both about six months after the wedding," Hank said, "The child would have been a girl."

"I'm so sorry," Carly said.

He shook his head.

"At the time Maeve was being taken care of by his cousin," Hank said, "There was a situation that we were dealing with. And when he got back…it was too late."

Carly looked down. A stray thought whistled through her head and she looked up again, frowning.

"Cousin?" she asked.

"Yes," Hank said.

He winced.

"Sean didn't know that Tom had already created a rash of petty thieveries back in Ireland," Hank said, "They'd grown up together, on and off, and Sean trusted him. Even if they had been rivals at one point."

He shook his head again.

"But when this happened, I wasn't there really, but Sean lost it," Hank said, "When you saw Black Tom you might have noticed that he walks with a limp. That was Sean. He probably would have done worse if Alex hadn't been there."

Carly could only stare.

"We ended up burying her near Westchester," Hank said, "Sean always blamed himself, so I suppose it's one of the reasons that he doesn't visit Westchester very often anymore."

There was something in his tone that told her that this particular thing was weighing on his mind rather heavily. Carly put her pen down again.

"Should we use it then?" she said, "The church I mean. I don't want to make him feel uncomfortable or anything."

Hank nodded.

"I suppose not, although I'm not even sure if he'll come," Hank said, "Westchester itself might be too much for him. He was bad that first year, but we thought he was getting better. Then…then at the three year anniversary he started to drift away. He hasn't been at Westchester for anything other than emergencies."

"But surely he'll come for his best friend's wedding," Carly said.

"Perhaps," Hank said.

He paused and swallowed.

"Are you sending out an invitation to your father?" he asked, his voice quiet.

Carly looked down. She felt Hank's hand encircle hers.

"I didn't mean to make you sad," he said.

"I didn't mean to bring up what happened to your friend," Carly said.

She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on how warm and comforting Hank's hand felt. She was going to need it.

"I love my father," Carly said, "He's raised me on his own and I know that was tough for him. I would love for him to walk me down the aisle. But at the same time…at the same time there are things that he needs to understand."

Carly swallowed.

"Are you going to send him an invitation?" Hank asked.

His voice was calm and collected, as though they weren't talking about how his future father-in-law hated him for being born a certain way.

"I would like to," she said, "But…I don't think that it's a good idea."

"So you're not inviting him?" Hank asked.

There was no condemnation in his voice. There was no sneaking satisfaction either. Carly shook her head.

"No, no. I was going to write him a letter," Carly said.

There was a pause. She knew that Hank was waiting for more.

"There are things that I need to tell him, short of calling him," Carly said, "And I know that if I phone him he can just hang up or just start demanding an apology. I thought that a letter would work better."

Hank nodded.

"I was going to tell him when to RSVP if he wants to come," Carly said, "But I wasn't going to include any details. Not until…"

"Until what?" Hank asked.

She swallowed.

"My father is very strong-willed and stubborn," Carly said, "And, you know how he feels about mutants."

She felt Hank tense slightly.

"I want him to promise that he won't cause any trouble," Carly said, trying to keep her voice firm, "He needs to understand that I am marrying a mutant, who is friends with other mutants. Mutants will be at my wedding, mutants will comprise most of my guest list in fact, and he is not allowed to have a problem with it."

Carly's eyes met Hank's.

"If I don't object to you," she said, "then he has no right to."

Hank rubbed circles on the outside of her hand.

"I want him there Hank. I want him to like you, to approve, and I want him to be happy for me, to share in what's happening," Carly said.

Carly bit her lip for a moment.

"But if he can't, then he's not going to ruin our wedding."

She felt his hand brush up against her cheek. She opened her eyes and saw him give her a gentle smile.

"I really don't think that anyone is going to be able to do that," Hank said.

* * *

_**A/N: **All that stuff I said about Sean? Pretty much canon. Depressing, isn't it?_


	20. Chapter 20

June 27, 1973

Hank watched as Carly tugged on her pink dress. He didn't quite understand what she was doing. He supposed that she thought she was straightening the hem or some such, but they were in a car. How could she tell if the hem was straight or not when she was sitting down? He decided he didn't want to ask her.

The past week had been tough. Carly had gotten a letter back from her father, but instead of the much-hoped for support of her marriage it had instead been a list of reasons why she shouldn't do it and should instead come home immediately. She'd locked herself in the bathroom for an hour after reading it. It was only when Hank had come home that she'd let herself out and cried in his arms instead of into a towel.

Hank himself had read some of the letter, even though he knew he wasn't supposed to. The first paragraph had made him put it down in disgust. Hank had heard many things like it in his life, things spat at him by his enemies. At the moment the population in general wasn't afraid of mutants. There were, however, always going to be alarmist groups, and the X-men had dealt with a few on occasion.

The Friends of Humanity had been growing in recent years. Their very existence hurt his head. How could anyone be so intolerant, so ignorant about what mutation was or about the people who were mutated? Carly's father, however, sounded as though he could have been a member on a podium, preaching to a crowd of the converted.

Carly had put on a brave face through it all. He supposed that was one of the reasons she was so determined to make a good impression with his family. Now that she had effectively lost her father, at least for the foreseeable future, Hank was the only immediate family she was going to have. Beyond that, the rest of their family was going to reside in Westchester.

He didn't know why she was worried. She had already impressed Alex, and he was sure that Charles and Moira were going to be supportive. He still wasn't sure if Sean was coming; he had given a rather noncommittal response. As for the younger crowd, it sounded as though Carly had made friends with Jean. The rest of the new team could get acquainted with her over time. Hank didn't have any worries on that count.

Hank stopped the car in front of the gates. Carly looked up and swallowed. Hank smiled before keying in the code that Charles had given them. He was aware that it changed randomly every twenty-four hours. Hank didn't even know just how many combinations the gate system could come up with, and he had designed it. It never hurt to be too careful.

The gates open. He saw Carly's eyes widen as she took in the Institute for the first time. Hank couldn't suppress a chuckle. She had agreed to be married there, sight unseen. He'd had photos of himself and his friends, but the Institute was always small, always in the background. Now that she was seeing the actual venue for the first time he couldn't help but feel amused. She was looking as though she was looking at a fairy tale.

Perhaps she was, although Hank had the feeling that it wasn't a perfect one. If their tale was any, it was _Beauty and the Beast_, only he wasn't going to turn into a handsome prince at the end. Then again, in this particular case, the fair maiden had never let appearance's get in the way of love, even for a moment.

He pulled up the car to the side of the Institute. He took the keys out of the ignition and left the car. Hank got to Carly's side of the car before she got out. He opened the door for her and gave her his hand. She gripped it a little tighter than necessary as she got out, still staring at the Institute.

He ran his thumb over her knuckles once as he closed the door behind her. She straightened her dress and swallowed.

"Ready?" he asked.

Carly smiled, her eyes still worried.

"Ready," she said.

* * *

They foyer was enormous, dwarfing over her and encased in expensive woods. Carly stood in the middle of it, feeling awkward. Her shoes were shiny and her hair was pulled back. She had taken a great deal of care in getting ready that morning, trying to make sure that she looked perfect. Her engagement ring was prominently displayed on her hand, although it always looked like that.

Hank closed the door behind her, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"You taught here?" she asked.

"Yes," Hank said.

He couldn't keep the pride out of his voice.

"We were always very proud of being able to provide the best opportunities to those who had been rejected by other institutions," Hank said, "Charles always believed that the next generation was our greatest hope at fostering mutant-human relationships. He believes that we're creating our own sort of ambassadors here, ambassadors to the world."

His face softened with nostalgia. Carly smiled as he continued.

"Leading by example is, of course, vital," Hank said, "If we don't behave in an appropriate manner, then how could we ever expect them to-"

"You get back here right this damn minute hellspawn!"

Hank stopped talking just as the girl with dark skin and white hair ran into the room, followed closely by the boy with angel wings. Carly remembered that they were named Ororo and Warren. She watched in amusement as they drew up short in front of Hank. Ororo was holding a pair of combat boots. She swallowed when she saw Hank and Carly.

"Hey Dr. McCoy," she said.

Hank sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Did you steal some of Alex's uniform items?" he asked, "Again?"

Ororo looked over at Warren, who shook his head. A second later a pair of heavy hands clapped onto their shoulders.

"My boots? Really?" Alex asked.

Ororo swallowed again.

"Here you are professor," she said, handing him the boots.

Alex snatched the boots out of her hand.

"Thank you Ororo," he said, "And now, you and Warren are doing five laps around the mansion."

Both teens groaned. Carly couldn't help but giggle.

"Do it right now or it's ten!" Alex said.

The two scurried out the door. Alex shook his head before throwing the boots over his shoulder, the laces leaving one in front and one behind.

"Kids these days, huh?" Alex said.

"Indeed," Hank said.

He sighed.

"I suppose you've given up on taking the diplomatic approach?" he asked.

"It's easier to make them run," Alex said.

He turn to Carly and thrust out his hand. She took it tentatively, managing a smile.

"Nice to meet you under better circumstances," Alex said

He let her hand go.

"So, you guys brought your luggage up?" he said, "Sorry no one was here to meet you, but class is on and we were doing a Danger Room session."

"No, we haven't," Hank said.

"Then allow me," Alex said, "Charles's class should be wrapping up in about five minutes; it's in his office, and he doesn't have any more classes today after that. Moira should be finishing up with the Danger Room around then. I'll meet you there."

He grimaced.

"Assuming that no one tries to steal the luggage," he said.

Shaking his head once more Alex walked out of the foyer. Carly took Hank's hand.

"You know where his office is?" she asked.

"I could walk there blindfolded," he said.

She tucked her arm in his and he led her up the stairs. Carly looked at the wood paneling, each piece carved with great care. Pictures hung on the walls, the oldest in black and white and the newest in color. Some of them were of the faculty, while others were of the students. She could see each group growing as the year passed.

Classes were going on in several of the rooms. Carly saw hair that came from every color of the rainbow, as well as eyes. She saw fins and fur, fangs and flippers. Carly didn't see a mutation quite as pronounced as Hank, although several of the students came close. She could see now why the Institute had been his refuge for so many years.

Hank came to a door and waited outside it. The door was open a crack and Carly could hear the conversation that wafted through.

"Which of course begs the question of the implications of the genome progressing," a reasonable British accent said, "Remember, we are not our fore bearers. Evolution has left us with a greater thinking capacity than at any other time in history. There are enough well-fed people in the world so that it is not strictly about survival anymore."

"And what about the places that aren't?" another voice asked.

"Good question Doug. I suppose it really depends on the thinking capacity."

A small bell echoed through the hall. Shuffling noises reached her ears as the students began to leave.

"Now, I want your essays by tomorrow at five. Remember to have them typed."

There was a chorus of "yes professor" as the door opened. Most of the students flooded past without even looking at Hank or Carly. They were too busy trying to fit their books back into their backpacks. One of them adjusted his backpack and looked at Hank. He grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.

"Nice to see you again too Doug," Hank said.

"Glad you're back Dr. McCoy," he said.

He looked at his watch.

"I'd stay and chat, but my next class is in five minutes," Doug said, "Mr. Guthrie's pretty strict about that."

"Why can you never be on time?" Hank smiled.

"Hey, I'm getting better," Doug said.

He waved once again before running down the stairs. Hank tilted his head towards Carly.

"Former student," he said.

"I figured," Carly said.

Hank took a step forward before knocking on the door.

"Come in."

He opened the door and Carly found herself looking in on a small but cozy office. Chairs and couches had been set up, and she could see where students had left pencils in their hurry to get to their next class. Book cases were pressed up against the wall, and Carly saw that several pictures had been framed and scattered around the space.

She turned her head and saw the man that she assumed was Charles sitting behind the desk in the room. He looked a little tired, and Carly thought that his hair might be thinning slightly, but he smiled at the two of them. He wheeled out from behind the desk and came in front of them, stretching out his hand.

"Hank," he said.

Hank shook his hand, still smiling. Charles's periwinkle gaze turned to Carly. Hank had told her once that he could read minds. His gaze was penetrating, although friendly, and she could easily believe it. However, Hank had also told her that he didn't like to intrude on other people's thoughts. It sounded like the way a man had mentored Hank would think.

"Miss Crocker I presume?" he asked.

She grasped his hand and smiled.

"You can call me Carly," she said.

"Carly," Charles said.

Footsteps echoed in the hall. Carly turned just in time for the door to open. A woman with shoulder-length auburn hair walked in. Her arms were wrapped around a young boy. The child looked sleepy, but when he saw Hank his face lit up. His hands began reaching, almost as if he wanted to tug on his fur.

"Hank!" he said, "Hank! Hank! Hank! Hank! Hank!"

"David," the woman said.

She looked up at Hank and shrugged, although she still seemed happy. Carly figured that she must be Moira.

"Nice to see you again Hank," she said, "And it's a pleasure to meet Miss Crocker."

Carly laughed, although it didn't last for more than a few seconds. She couldn't help it. The whole morning had been a whirlwind. She'd wanted to make a good impression; Hank would never be able to meet her family, but she was going to meet his. She didn't want to be found wanting.

The man and woman in front of her were the closest thing that Hank had to parents. She just didn't think that it would be so easy to talk to them, to feel welcome and at ease.

"I was just telling your husband," Carly smiled, "you can call me Carly."


	21. Chapter 21

July 6, 1973

"Beautiful."

Carly smiled and swished the long white skirt around once. She looked in the mirror and clasped her hands together. The sleeves went down to her wrists with a lace over-sleeve that stopped midway her elbows. The gown was square-necked, but lace filled in the space between the neckline and the cloth choker at her neck.

She looked back at Moira, who was still nodding in approval. David was fast asleep by her, his thumb in his mouth. There hadn't been anyone to leave him with at the Institute. Alex was still running simulations and Charles had another class. Hank was busy getting the last minute plans ready for the ceremony in a few days.

Carly was happy enough that Moira had decided to go wedding dress shopping with her. The trip had been a few hours out, since the town surrounding the Institute didn't go in big for bridal boutique. She'd seen the picture of Moira's wedding, an old black and white one that Hank had in his photo album. Carly couldn't believe that the fashions in wedding dresses had changed so much since then.

However, her current wedding dress just seemed to fit what she and Hank had so much better. It made her look as though she were a heroine from a period novel, perhaps something written by the Bronte sisters, one who got a happy ending. The styles of the decade tended that way. It was all too perfect.

The sales attendant looked pleased as she stepped forward.

"Do you want to see how it looks with a veil?" she asked.

"Yes please," Carly said.

The sales attendant nodded and walked away. Carly smoothed the skirt and turned fully to face Moira.

"I can't believe this is happening," she said.

"I know," Moira said, "It's a bit like a dream, isn't it?"

Carly nodded.

"I just, it's really sinking in now," Carly said, "I'm getting married in five days. I'm…"

She put her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes for a minute. She felt a hand on her shoulder and, surprised, she looked up to see Moira in front of her.

"I know," Moira repeated.

Moira cocked her head.

"Just wait until Hank sees you in this," she said.

Carly smiled and wiped away her tears.

"I'm looking forward to it," she said, "Feel a little silly for crying though…"

"Hey, hey," Moira said, wagging her finger, "Every bride gets to cry a little. As long as it's happy tears, then it's okay."

She took her hand off of Carly's shoulder. Carly bit her lip once and looked at her reflection again.

"It just…it seems like so much sometimes," she said.

"Oh?" asked Moira.

"Well…just everything," Carly said, "Just…I was a secretary a few years ago."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Moira said.

"No, there isn't," Carly said, "It's just…I never really looked beyond my horizons. Then I met Hank and…"

She gestured around her.

"All of this happened," she said.

Moira nodded, her expression thoughtful.

"I know that, all of this," Moira said, waving her hand in an imitation of Carly's gesture, "wasn't exactly what you expected out of life."

Carly nodded.

"And, as one woman who's married a man with big ideas to another who's about to," Moira said, "I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that the road gets tough sometimes, that sometimes a part of you does want to quit."

Carly blinked as Moira talked. Hank had told her that she'd been married to Charles for ten years. They'd had trouble conceiving; the likelihood of Moira ever being able to bear his child had been slim at best. David had been a miracle for the two of them, but likely he was the only one that they would ever get.

"But here's a little secret that I'm going to let you in on," Moira said.

She leaned forward and took Carly by both of her shoulders.

"It's worth it," she said.

Carly nodded, more tears gathering in her eyes.

"I know," she said.

"Good," Moira said, smiling, "Good."

She withdrew her hands.

"Come on now," she said, "Let's be more positive."

Carly laughed.

"Decided what flowers you want?" Moira asked.

Carly closed her eyes for a moment, trying to collect herself. It wasn't difficult. Moira had a way of putting people at ease, probably a result of working so long with people who needed to be put at ease. She took a deep breath before opening her eyes, trying to pretend as though she hadn't been in tears a few minutes earlier.

"Roses," Carly said.

She looked down at her engagement ring.

"Definitely roses," she said.

"Going for the traditional route?" Moira asked.

"Not really," Carly said, "I'm not picky about the color. Roses have always been a favorite of mine, that's all."

She looked at her hands, trying to visualize a bouquet.

"I thought maybe pink, yellow, and orange for the bouquet," she said, "You know, summer colors."

"Well, it is summer," Moira said.

"And then I was thinking pink ones for a headband instead of a tiara or more lace," Carly said, "There is such a thing as too much lace."

Moira smiled just as the sales attendant returned, carrying a lace veil.

"I thought this would look perfect with the dress," she said.

She draped it over Carly's head. Carly could feel the veil hit the small of her back and continue for a little longer. She looked at herself in the mirror, every inch the bride.

"How do you like it?" the sales attendant asked.

Carly smiled.

"Perfect," she said, "Just perfect."

* * *

"Move it or lose it!" Alex shouted.

Hank watched as the students below him scrambled to comply. He was pleased to see that Scott wasn't among them. In the old days they'd had to fight to keep Alex down while his injuries healed, and he knew that Scott wasn't any different. However, with Alex being Scott's brother, he knew that he'd taken extra precaution.

"Obstacles are coming online!" Alex said, "Hop to it, all of you!"

Next to him Sean shook his head. Sean had arrived only a few hours previous, looking exhausted and older than his twenty-four years. He'd congratulated Hank, but it was hard to see that so much of his former cheer was gone, probably never to return. The goofy, carefree grin had long since faded from his friend, but a ghost of it appeared on his face as he looked over at Alex.

"You've got a shout that most drill sergeants would die for," Sean said.

Alex rolled his eyes and folded his arms. Below them the expanded Danger Room opened up into a serious of traps. Hank had been particularly proud about that.

"They're going to face a lot worse than me in the coming years," Alex said, his voice grim, "If they can learn to think and act when I'm shouting at them, horrified that I'm going to make them run laps or something, then they can think when the Brotherhood are trying to kill them."

His expression softened for a moment.

"I don't mind playing bad cop if it saves their lives," he said.

His expression switched back to amusement, mixed with just a touch of sadism.

"But that doesn't mean that I can't enjoy earning their hate," he said.

Hank watched as he flipped a switch next to the main control panel. The floor began to sink down, the individual blocks moving in their own orbit. The teens scrambled for purchase on the walls while Warren took to the air. He grabbed Jean, who was struggling, while Clarice teleported herself and Ororo to a better vantage point.

"Nice teamwork," Sean said.

"They know they get deducted if they leave behind members," Alex said, "After a certain point it becomes instinctive."

He turned his back on the Danger Room below them, casually pressing a few buttons that sent the room shifting and turning. Hank could hear the frustrated shouts.

"So, how's Interpol?" he asked.

"Not bad," Sean said, "You know how it is."

Alex nodded, knowing that Sean wasn't allowed to talk too much about the nature of his work. Alex freely shared X-men developments with them, but only because they were still, in a way, part of the X-men.

"You?" Alex said, turning to Hank.

"We're about ready to go public with the surgery," Hank said, "Paul's filling out the final forms for it right now."

"And you're getting married," Alex said.

Hank rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I had quite forgotten," Hank said.

Sean grinned at him.

"Never thought I'd see the day," he said, "You were even worse than I was around girls."

Hank smiled, glad that there was nothing sad in his friend's voice.

"Carly's no ordinary girl," Hank said.

"I got that at the clinic," Alex said, turning to Sean, "Did we tell you about that?"

"You did," Sean said, "Twice."

"Alright then," Alex said.

He flipped another two switches. Turrets appeared at the top of the danger room, shooting red paint balls down on the students. Alex chuckled to himself.

"Have you ever thought of getting a hobby?" Sean asked.

"I've got my motorcycles," Alex said, his voice indignant.

"Mmhm," Sean said.

He leaned against a wall.

"Did you ever consider leaving the Institute?" he asked.

Alex frowned.

"I mean, you have that degree in geology and all," Sean said, "I was just wondering if you wanted to be an X-men coach until the end of time."

Alex's frown disappeared and he shrugged.

"I guess," he said.

His voice was uncertain. Hank looked over at Sean, who seemed almost contemplative. He wondered what he was thinking. They had all moved out of Westchester, all of them except Alex. Then again Sean had practically run from Westchester, but he had left the school where he'd graduated. Alex hadn't.

At the same time Hank wasn't sure if there was anything wrong with what Alex was doing. Hank couldn't help but feel that he should still be involved more in the life that he had once known, doing something to advance their cause. He had created a good surgery that would contribute to the medical world, but he knew that it would only really contribute to their cause in a secondary sense.

Sean was fighting at Interpol, but he knew that Sean was largely keeping quiet about his mutation so as not to cause trouble. The higher-ups knew that one of their highest performing agents was a mutant, of course they did, but Sean wasn't contributing to the cause. Not like he used to.

Alex, while he was still fighting a war that he was unlikely to win, was at least still doing something. He was the only one who was still firmly rooted in the ideals of their youth. Alex might pretend to be the most cynical of them all, but Hank knew that Charles's dream had sparked something deep inside him.

He doubted anything would do the same again.

"Hard to give up this sort of life," Alex said, "And besides, they need me here. At least until one of these morons shapes up."

He looked down at the Danger Room where the teens were high-fiving each other. The turrets were smoking ruins, and not a member of the team had any paint on them.

"They're not that bad," he said fondly.

Alex pressed another button. The wind picked up, sending Jean and Clarice sailing into the walls. Hail began to rain down from the ceiling. Ororo pushed out at it, but the wind increased and Warren got caught at it. Alex flipped another switch and the room began shifting again. He chuckled again.

"But they could be better," he said.

Sean shook his head.

"You seriously need some help."


	22. Chapter 22

July 11, 1973

Hank took a deep breath.

"Hey, calm down," Alex said, "It's not like there's going to be a Brotherhood attack on your wedding or anything."

Alex's face became grim for a moment.

"I made sure of it," he said.

"Thank you," Hank said, "That possibility hadn't even crossed my mind. But now I'm going to worry about it. Thank you so much."

Alex rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall. Hank scratched at his collar; it was the day of his wedding and now, after careful preparation, he was feeling as though he had forgotten something. Perhaps it had been his correct measurements; the tuxedo he was wearing felt much, much too constricting.

"I feel like I'm going to be sick," he said.

"If you're going to be sick, best do it now," Alex said, "Better now than on your future wife at the altar."

Hank buried his head in his hands.

"You are doing the exact opposite of helping," Hank said.

He could just make out Alex rolling his eyes again, his face a mask of disbelief. Sometimes Hank wondered if his lack of tact in the Danger Room ever went away. He'd been better when they were younger, at least he thought he had, but perhaps he thought that they could all take a little good-natured ribbing.

However, at the moment it was the furthest thing from helpful.

"Just tryin' to keep it light in here," Alex said.

"Well stop," Hank said.

"Yeah yeah, whatever Hank," he said, "You need to loosen up a little."

"How can I?" Hank asked, "In less than half an hour I'm getting married. It's not something that should be taken lightly."

"Yeah, and I get that," Alex said, "But you should be able to enjoy what's happening, right?"

Hank paused for a moment and swallowed.

"You're right," he said.

"I mean, it's not like you're having any second thoughts or anything," Alex said.

His face contorted.

"Are you?"

"Of course not!" Hank snapped.

"Alright, alright!" Alex said, holding his hands up, "I was just saying."

He paused for a minute and smiled. Alex walked over to him, his hands in his pockets and grinning.

"You're really looking forward to this, aren't you?" he said, "That's why you're so nervous, isn't it?"

Hank swallowed again before nodding.

"Yes," he said, "She's given up so much to be with me; her father, safety-"

"But she obviously thinks that it was worth the trade," Alex said.

He punched Hank in the arm.

"She'd be crazy not to," he said.

Hank managed a weak smile.

"Thank you," he said.

Alex grinned. The door opened and Sean walked in. Hank could see the strain on his friend's face. He had the feeling that his wedding was the first one that Sean had been to since his own. He was still holding up though, his face set as though he was determined not to be anything other than happy.

Hank found himself admiring Sean's fortitude more and more.

"It's time for us to go out," he said.

He looked over at Hank.

"Ready?" he asked.

Hank smiled.

"Yes."

* * *

Moira adjusted Carly's veil. It fit perfectly beneath the crown of pink roses that encircled her head. A few of Carly's friends smiled at her, clearing up the make-up and rose petals that had fallen as they put together the crown and the bouquet. A few others were leaving to take their place before the ceremony.

David sat on a chair in the back, his eyes wide at all of the commotion. Carly could feel his bright blue eyes taking in the scene, although he did little more than sit and suck his thumb. He had his father's peircing gaze, even at hs young age. Moira had told her that she liked to think that he was taking in all of the information and learning.

Carly wasn't sure about that, but anything that kept the two-year-old quiet for a little bit was a good thing. She was quite fond of David, but she needed him to stay quiet. Her nerves were already shot and if the little boy started screaming than Carly had a feeling that she was going to lose it.

It wasn't going to be the wedding day that she had envisioned as a child. There was no question about that. Her father wasn't going to walk her down the aisle. He wasn't even going to be in attendance. Even though she had made her peace with his absence it was still hard for her to accept.

Carly imagined that, one day, her father might come around. She didn't know when that would happen though, and she doubted that it would be soon. The idea that, in the space of a few months, she had lost her only family member was a tough one. The rift hadn't been her fault, not really, and she would fix it if she could.

However, if the only way her father thought she could fix it was to leave Hank and beg for forgiveness then she wouldn't do it. There was nothing that she needed to be forgiven for, and there was no way that she was leaving Hank. Although she didn't feel happy about what was going on with her father, she wasn't going to destroy her happiness to enable his hatred.

She shook her head and closed her eyes for a minute. Carly tried to concentrate on what was happening. She was dressed in her wedding dress, ready to get married to the man she loved. She was ready to start a new life that had nothing to do with all of the mess that her old life had become.

In a way it was a clean slate, a beautiful invitation to what promised to be a beautiful future. She opened her eyes again and looked at herself in the mirror. From her head to her toes, Carly could see that she was every inch the bride, waiting to take the first steps into her new life. Carly took a deep breath and smiled.

Moira put her hand on her shoulder.

"Ready?" she asked.

Carly nodded.

"Yes," she said.

* * *

The music began. Hank turned his head and saw Carly coming down the aisle in the garden. He felt part of his brain shut down and he had to struggle not to drop his jaw. Carly looked up at him shyly, walking down the aisle alone on the rose petals that her friends had scattered on the ground for her.

She reached his side and handed her bouquet to the nearest bridesmaid. She folded her hands in front of her.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered her today to join this man and this woman in holy wedlock," the Reverend said.

Hank smiled, his brain coming back online for a few minutes. He'd have to speak soon, and he wasn't going to flub his words.

"Henry Philip McCoy and Carly Patricia Crocker," the Reverend said, "the covenant which you are about to make meant to be a sacred expression of your love for each other."

He had to resist the urge to take Carly's hands in her own. She smiled almost shyly back at him, her face framed by lace. He wondered if this had been what Charles and Sean had felt as they prepared to say their vows and wed the women who, for good or ill, would shape the rest of their lives.

Hank couldn't help but feel that Carly's influence would be for good. So far the marriages of their group had been good ones, even though they had not lasted long. Hank could only hope that his would last long, because the idea of losing her was unbearable. He understood now why Sean had never quite recovered.

"As you pledge your vows and commit your lives to each other, we ask that you do so in all seriousness, and yet with a deep sense of joy," the Reverend continued, "with the deep conviction that you are committing yourselves to a growing relationship of trust, mutual support, and love."

Their relationship had been one of trust, mutual support, and love from the very beginning. Hank couldn't believe that it had only been a few months ago that Carly had run her hands over his paws and asked him, without any idea of what the future would hold, to give it their best shot.

He could only be grateful that he had listened.

"Henry, do you understand and accept this responsibility," the Reverend said, "and do you promise to do your very best each day to create a loving, healthy, and happy marriage?"

It was one of the easiest questions of his life.

"I do."

The Reverend nodded and turned to Carly.

"Carly, do you understand and accept this responsibility," he said, "and do you promise to do your very best each day to create a loving, healthy, and happy marriage?"

She smiled at him, her face a reflection of joy and tenderness.

"I do."

The Reverend nodded to both of them and flipped a page in his book.

"The wedding ring is a symbol of eternity," he said, "It is an outward sign of an inward and spiritual bond which unites two hearts in endless love."

Next to him Alex began to fish out the rings. Hank was struck by the sudden fear that he had somehow forgotten them, but he saw their gold glint at the last moment. Alex pulled them out of his lapel pocket and handed the rings to the Reverend. The Reverend set them on his book and Hank took one, finally grasping Carly's hand in his.

"And now as a token of your love and of your deep desire to be forever united in heart and soul, you Henry," he said, "may place a ring on the finger of your bride."

Hank cleared his throat and set the ring on Carly's finger. It was small, but her hands were so delicate that it fit perfectly.

"Carly, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness to you," he said.

Despite how nervous and choked up he was feeling, the words came out clear and confident. He could see from the light on Carly's face she had noticed it too. Her face practically glowing she reached out and took the other ring. He could feel her small fingers on the outside of his paw, cool and smooth.

"By the same token Carly, you may place a ring on the finger of your groom."

He felt her slide the ring down his fur to its appropriate place.

"Hank," Carly said, "I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness to you."

He smiled at her, taking both of her hands in his. It felt like he was warming them somehow, enveloping them in a protective grasp, something he would like to do to Carly forever. Having her as anything other than a part of his life, anything other than his wife, felt wrong. He was glad that he was rectifying that situation.

"For as much as Henry and Carly have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and these witnesses, and thereto have pledged their faithfulness each to the other, and have pledged the same by the giving and receiving each of a ring," the Reverend said, "by the authority invested in me as a minister of the gospel according to the laws of the state of New York, I pronounce that they are husband and wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

Hank looked back at Carly, her eyes shining.

"Those that God has joined together, let no man put asunder."

Hank knew that wouldn't be a problem. He was never going to let her go. He wasn't that stupid. The Reverend shut his book.

"You may now kiss the bride."

He abandoned her hands, cupping her face instead so he could kiss her. She rested her hands on his chest for a moment before he pulled away. She smiled up at him, her green eyes filled with joy. Hank knew that he was just as bad. He took both of her hands in his again and faced the assembled party.

"May I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Henry Philip McCoy."

Hank looked over at Carly, his wife. The thought was a strange one, but it was perfect.


	23. Chapter 23

August 1, 1973

"The findings from the surgery are certainly thrilling. The McCoy-Baulson process is going up for review by the FDA, but initial reports look good."

Hank looked over at Paul, who was beaming at the news report. The rest of the clinic was crowded around the TV, their eyes wide with excitement. Carly sat next to Hank, her hand on his. He felt her squeeze his hand. He squeezed back and smiled at her before turning back to the TV.

After months of hard work their findings were finally being put up for review. Paul had sent a few missives to physicians around the country with a paper of their findings. It wasn't much, but scientists and doctors could have big mouths when they were excited. It was heartening to see just how much news coverage it was getting as a result. The surgery could change the lives of many. It had already changed his.

The news reporter was joined by a few other commentators. She smiled towards them and shuffled her papers.

"Now," she said, "there is a controversial element to the procedure."

Hank frowned.

"Dr. Henry McCoy, the lead doctor behind the process, is a mutant," she said, "And some wonder if this will affect the stability of the process."

Hank blinked. For a moment he wasn't sure what it was that he was hearing before the words slowly filtered in. He could hear the murmuring in the clinic. Carly gripped his hand tighter, her lips drawn together. She looked at him and he shook his head. He had to hear the rest of the broadcast.

He should have known that it would somehow come back to the "mutant question," as the news casters had termed it. Hank had just been so focused on the work that he didn't think that his genes would somehow threaten the process that he had helped create. He scanned the commentators, a scientist, a mutant's right activist that he vaguely remembered from his days in the X-men, and Graydon Creed.

Hank took in a sharp breath. He needed no concentration to remember who Graydon Creed was. He had founded the Friends of Humanity. He remembered the bitter fights with the Friends of Humanity, the underhanded political techniques that they had reeled from. The struggle against their politicall machninations had left many of Charles's friends in Washington confused and angry.

In combat Hank remembered being shot at, bullets ripping through his arms. He'd stitched them up himself, they were minor wounds, but Alex had always had a bad habit of rushing into a situation. He'd been the one to suffer from their casual use of violence.

The militant organization had also created other problems. He still remembered a fight that had placed the X-men briefly on the side of the Brotherhood against the Friends of Humanity, the superior smirk on Magneto's face as they fought the humans that they had wanted to protect. It had been demoralizing and Hank had struggled with his own beliefs in people for weeks afterwards.

Creed was their public face, a strange combination of charisma and oiliness. Hank remembered listening to his backwards and insidious arguments, always twisting words and looking for openings. He exploited any chance to make an argument against mutants, to explain why the general population shouldn't be so apathetic.

It appeared that he thought that the McCoy-Baulson process was one such opportunity.

"Now, Mr. Creed," the newscaster said, "I was wondering if you would open us up wth your initial thoughts on the subject."

"Why thank you," he said.

He flashed a charming smile. He was always charming.

"I am very concerned about this new procedure," he said, "I can't imagine anyone sane letting a loved one go through it."

"And why not?" the scientist asked.

Creed tilted his head.

"The findings are most likely forged."

"They're not!" Paul yelled.

His friend was on his feet, glaring at the TV. Hank put his hand on his arm. Paul looked at him, his face full of confusion and righteous anger. The rest of the clinic staff was staring, their eyes wide and confused. Hank wished that the room would go away, but it wasn't going to, and in the meantime he couldn't have Paul losing his temper.

Paul slowly sat back down again, his eyes glued onto the TV. Hank knew it was hard for him to hear this. It was taking everything Hank had to continue to look at the TV.

"What makes you say that?" the scientist said.

"Well it's one of only a few conclusions," Creed said, raising an eyebrow, "Dr. McCoy, while I'm sure he's a fine individual in many other respects, is a mutant. They just aren't capable of this kind of work."

"That's-" the mutants rights activist began.

"No," the newscaster said, "let Mr. Creed continue."

Creed smiled again. Hank wondered how much he had bribed the newscaster, or perhaps the station. The Friends of Humanity weren't short of funds. It was a dull, tired thought, a feeling and way of thinking he had experienced many times when dealing with the Friends of Humanity. It was only trumped by the Brotherhood.

"Thank you," he said, "Mutation affects the brain, makes them different."

"You make them different!" the activist said.

"Calm down," Creed said.

His voice was reasonable, almost concerned. It made Hank sick to hear it.

"I would have to ask you to calm down as well," the newscaster said, "Or I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Hank closed his eyes for a minute, so he couldn't see if the mutants' rights activist complied. However, he could hear Creed continue to talk.

"They're not right, and that's quite clear to anyone with a pair of eyes and a brain," Creed said, "The very word 'mutant' means abnormal. Something has been done to these poor people. It's not their fault, but it's irreversible and we just need to accept it. Any product made by these people or service rendered is due to be faulty due to that."

He heard him clear his throat, probably smiling again.

"Especially complex processes. It would be a miracle if people could be truly given their sight back, but with such a delicate issue in the hands of someone who isn't even human, well, people might wonder-"

"I've had enough!"

Hank looked up and saw that Paul had turned off the TV. He was breathing heavily and his face was fixed on some point far away from him. Hank blinked and felt that Carly was squeezing his hand to the point of pain. He couldn't believe that he hadn't noticed it before. Graydon's words had been too consuming.

Paul glared at the staff.

"Anyone have anything to say?" he snapped.

"Paul, please stop," Hank said.

He was surprised at how quiet and even his voice came out. Paul looked at him, his face contorted.

"It'll go through Hank," he said.

"I know," Hank said.

He got up. Carly rose with him, her hand still connected to his in an iron grip. He walked out of the room, trying to look dignified, as though the words on the TV hadn't affected him. It was easier than he'd thought to throw up the walls that he'd carried around him for so long, walking around aloof from it all.

Once he got to his office Carly closed the door behind her. She wrapped her arms around Hank's neck and he blinked, feeling surprised. He didn't know when he would get completely used to her casual touches, but he could tell that the answer was not yet.

She buried her face in his fur.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"It doesn't matter," Hank said.

Carly stilled. Hank took a deep breath.

"It's nothing I haven't heard before," he said, "People are going to be like that. I can't let them affect me."

There was a pause. Carly sighed and pulled away slightly so he could look at her face. Compassion was written on her features as she touched his face.

"I'm your wife," she said.

Hank swallowed.

"I know," he said.

She smiled, cupping his face.

"You can tell me," she said.

He hesitated.

"I…I don't want…Carly…"

"I'm here for you Hank," she said, "In whatever way you need me to be. I was before too, but now it's official."

She managed a small smile. He pulled her close, taking a moment to marshal his thoughts.

"I know it's not true," he said, "And I know, I know, that the government is not going to make a decision based on my species."

Hank took a deep breath.

"At least I know, in the sensible part of my mind, that this is what should happen," Hank said.

"You can't believe that anything that racist said is true," Carly said.

He shook his head.

"Not logically, no," he said, "But…there's that small part of me that feels strange in a world where people don't look like me, where I am an abnormality."

"There's nothing wrong with you," Carly said.

"So you've told me, and so I know," he said, "But there's no denying that in this world, I am strange, I am different. Humans, or at least normal, everyday humans, do not walk around with blue fur, claws, fangs, and yellow eyes. You cannot deny that."

His wife shook her head slowly.

"If you prick us, do we not bleed?" she whispered.

"Shylock," Hank murmured.

Carly nodded.

"I don't like Shakespeare's tragedies, although I'm not sure quite what _The Merchant of Venice _could or should be classified as," Carly said, "And you're right, you're different than what people expect. It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you though."

He sighed and pressed his forehead against hers.

"I know, I know," he said, "I spent most of my late teens and early twenties coming to that conclusion. And I fought to cement that in my mind. When I had enough courage I left Westchester, perhaps to try to cement that with some real experience instead of just philosophy and comforting thoughts."

He opened his eyes.

"And I found you," he said.

Carly smiled, but he could see the tears in her eyes.

"Don't listen to what they say," she said, "You're a better man than most men, and you're a thousand times the man that racist is."

Hank pulled her closer, tucking her head back into his neck. He could feel her breathing, the feeling warm and welcome on his fur.

"It doesn't worry me what he says."

Hank could feel Carly's confusion. He shook his head.

"Not really at least, it does bring back memories of inadequacy, but nothing more than that."

Carly shifted in his arms. He stroked her hair, marshaling his thoughts.

"But I know the Friends of Humanity," he said, "I don't think that they can interfere with the FDA, but it is troubling that this has come to their attention at all."

He looked down.

"I don't like what that could mean," he said.

"It means nothing," Carly said, her voice firm, "Or it means close enough to nothing for us to ignore it."

"No, it doesn't," Hank said.

He stroked her face and shook his head.

"I can't help worrying about what their interest might mean," Hank said, "And I know that things are going to get bad."

She reached down and grasped his hand.

"Whatever it means, we'll face it together," she said.

He could feel Carly give a small smile against his fur.

"Besides," she said, "what's the worst that could happen?"


	24. Chapter 24

September 21, 1973

The ringing of a phone jerked Hank out of his sleep. He moaned and Carly shifted in his arms.

"You get it," she murmured.

"I hardly see why it has to be me," Hank said.

"It's probably for you," she said.

"How do you figure that?" he asked.

"Nobody calls a secretary at this time of night."

"Fine," Hank said.

He stretched and got up, walking into the next room where the phone was. He picked it up and cradled it into his neck. He half-hoped that it was for Carly, just so he could see her expression.

"McCoy residence," Hank yawned.

"Hank, it's me," Paul said.

Hank rubbed his eyes. He glanced at the clock that hung on the wall and began rubbing his temples instead.

"It's two a.m. Paul," he said, "I'm not one to use hyperbole, but if this is nothing short of the apocalypse-"

"They've rejected it."

Hank froze.

"I just got the news. Time difference and all that."

Paul's voice was oddly flat. Automatically Hank knew what his friend was talking about, the process that had been the result of so much careful, difficult work. He could feel a sinking detachment from somewhere, a creeping pain. The hand that wasn't clenching the telephone gripped the table. Hank felt it cracking beneath his fingers, but he couldn't pay much attention to it.

"On what grounds?" he demanded.

"They…they say…" Paul said.

His voice faltered. Paul sighed before he spoke. He sounded as though he were heartbroken.

"They say that they don't trust the procedure to be safely applied to other patients," Paul said, "They say they believe that what we did with Carly was a one-time fluke."

"On what grounds?" Hank repeated.

He felt as though he were a broken record machine, repeating itself in confusion.

"They didn't say," Paul said.

His voice was bitter. A chunk of the table came off in Hank's hand. The snap was loud and he heard Carly stir in the next room. He couldn't face her at the moment though, couldn't face the colossal implications of the latest failure in series of failures. It all swirled in a great sense of depression around him.

He threw the piece of the table onto the floor.

"There's nothing wrong with the procedure," he said.

"I know," Paul said, "I know."

"And there's nothing we can do to persuade them to change their minds?" Hank said, "Do they want more human testing? We can give it another try if that's what they want."

Paul hesitated on the other end of the phone.

"No," he said.

Even as early as it was Hank could tell when his friend was lying.

"What did they ask for?" he said.

Paul didn't say anything.

"What did they ask for?" Hank repeated.

Paul didn't say anything. Hank heaved a heavy sigh. He knew what was coming, although part of him screamed that no one could ask that.

"What did they ask for?" he murmured.

"Nothing," Paul said.

"Don't lie."

"They…rather heavily implied," Paul said, each word sounding as though it were being forced out of him with tongs, "that if you withdrew your name from the process and named me as the sole creator, that you were more of an assistant that I credited with too much, then I might have more credibility."

Hank closed his eyes.

"I see."

There was a pause.

"I didn't say yes," Paul said.

"I know you didn't," Hank said.

There was another pause, this one longer.

"Hank, I don't know what to do."

He could hear how lost his friend sounded. Carly's hand appeared on Hank's shoulder, her soothing touch putting some balm on a wound that stung and burned. He heard her sit beside him but he didn't look at her. Too much was going on in his head. It felt like someone was pushing him into the ground.

"Paul," he said, "we both know that our work is more important than whether or not a mutant was involved in it. We both understand that, and we both know what we did was a valid process that can bring sight to many people."

He rubbed his temples.

"But it appears that some people don't know that," Hank said, "The process is bigger than you or I. We have a decision to make, one that is either going to compromise our morals or our work. We'll talk when I get to the office."

Hank hung up and opened his eyes. He looked at Carly at long last. He wondered what he was going to say to her, to explain the maelstrom in his mind. It had been simpler when he was a teenager, when he had been part of the X-men. It had gotten complicated, but most of their major threats had the redeeming quality of being solvable by fighting.

He thought of Alex, still fighting that fight in the field. He wondered if he really was choosing his successor, grooming his younger brother to take up after him as Hank thought. Hank wondered if that was the type of life that Alex wanted for Scott; to always have to fight and struggle, winning the battles but never being able to even glimpse the end of the war.

Then again, perhaps Alex was just trying to make things easier for Scott. Hank knew that, as a Summers, Scott would find a way into the battle sooner or later. Perhaps Alex had seen that and, instead of fighting him, had decided to train him to protect himself as best as possible. In their world they needed the soldiers to fight the battles that took place behind humanity's back. They would always need that defense.

He wondered if that was how Magneto defended Magnetrix's presence on the battlefield. Hank had often thought about that strange girl, the one who surfaced midway into his tenure as an X-men. Her father cared about her; he never had any doubts about that. He'd seen them once together, a group of furies, but Magneto was always watching her, so careful. Another sure sign was that, unlike the other Brotherhood members, she wore Kevlar, an attempt to give her some sort of protection.

Perhaps he thought like Alex, only in terms of offense instead of defense. Magneto had always believed in the war, in the blood and violence that others had cruelly exposed him to so early on in life. He believed that the best defense was a good offense. The Brotherhood weren't just fighting for mutants though; Hank had seen how they had turned to criminal enterprises to fuel their activities. It was why he figured that Black Tom fit in so well.

The mission of the X-men was different, and so were Alex's perceptions. He knew that Alex had, after Cuba, never considered joining the Brotherhood. He'd seen them as traitors, as people who would never even try to do right, who had given in and accepted their own form of defeat. Hank knew that he could have tipped the other way in his estimation, could have believed instead in what Magneto preached. It was good for the world that he never had.

Alex had been taught by Charles, taught that the X-men were to protect the world from those who would seek to harm humanity and mutants alike. The X-men were jacks of all trades, people who would not only fight the Brotherhood and the Friends of Humanity, but would stop a bank robbery that they saw in progress, help the coastguard prepare a town for a hurricane, to overall protect anyone at any time.

Hank had long known that the mission of the X-men had extended far past their original role as fighters. Alex had, in his own right, become a teacher, capable of training the next generation in these ideals. He'd turned from the surly convict into the upstanding, if not somewhat militaristic, citizen. He had done it all in his own right, taking the lessons that had been learned at Westchester and applying them to his own life.

Sean was still floundering. Hank could sympathize for his lost and desolate friend. The death of his young wife and unborn daughter had left him scarred. Hank had often thought himself shackled by his own beliefs about what he was. Sean was shackled by his own guilt and pain, the shadow of it never far behind his eyes. He'd become desperate for something to ease that pain, no matter what it wsa.

Yet, even in that desperation he had become a force for good, a top agent of Interpol. He was fighting crime in a broader sense of the word. Sometimes Hank wondered if it was only the lessons that he'd learned at Westchester that kept his heart beating, kept him focused on the way of good.

Then there was him, the last member of the first class. He was the one, out of all of them, who was built for violence, built that way because of his own cataclysmic mistake. He had claws and fangs and strength. Instead he'd turned to science, the one force in his life that he had always felt he'd understood. He'd taken the idea of helping people and helped develop a way to help people, to make things right for them.

Now someone was trying to take that away from him. From somewhere out of the despair a deep thrumming feeling began in his chest. How dare they do that to him, how dare they block that? The lessons at Westchester that he'd learned had been ones of teamwork, of family, of a responsibility to the world outside himself. Now they were trying to destroy the product of those lessons.

There was another lesson though, one that he had been forgetting. He'd been taught how to fight. While his fists wouldn't solve his current predicament, it was of little consequence. It was the spirit, the will to fight that Westchester had imparted to him. It was the strength to stand up in a storm and draw the line, to scream to the storm that they'd had enough and it was time to stop being pushed back.

Charles had once said to him that there came a time, in any struggle, when fighting back wasn't just enough. There had to be something more to it, some compassionand empathy, otherwise there was no point in anything that they were doing. They had to be fighting for something, for someone, living or dead, real or imagined. Otherwise there was no point in fighting.

Carly still sat next to him, her face full of that same compassion. A person like her could only fuel that will. Hadn't she shown him that some people in the world genuinely could continue on regardless of the obstacles that people put in their way? She'd shown that there was no reason to buckle to the pressures and hatred of another.

She'd never attended school at Westchester. She'd only walked those halls a handful of times, gone into its garden to be married. However, the idea that those lessons could be learned outside of that school was enough to hope, to not give in and slink away in shame. He was not removing his name from that paper.

Though he couldn't change everything, couldn't yet fully banish his fears of inadequacy, he knew that things could be changed. It had taken him years to realize it, but in the end he had. It was recognizing that potential that was the real mountain to climb. Now all he had to do was start.

He cupped Carly's face, the feeling in his chest solidifying into steely determination.

"I'm not going to let them do this," he said.

Carly looked at him, her lips parted.

"I'm going to sue the government," he said.

She continued to stare at him, her eyes wide.

"With any luck it will go to the Supreme Court," he said, "I will make my case in the plainest terms that I can but I will make it about Mutant Rights because that is what this is about."

He swallowed.

"I'm not going to pretend that it won't be difficult, "he said, "But I won't let them do this, won't let the people that I've been trained to fight against win so easily. I want them to know that the ground they gain will only come after fighting for every last inch. I refuse to be pushed."

Her eyes widened. Hank stroked her cheek.

"I know that this isn't the early married life that you hoped for," he said, "And it's not what I wanted either. I never imagined our married life taking such a turn."

He swallowed, forcing himself to look into her eyes.

"But I will not cower for them, for anyone. I will not-"

Carly silenced him by covering his lips with her own. He stopped, her arms wrapping themselves around his waist. When they parted she looked at him, her face full of determination.

"I said once that I thought you were brave," Carly said, "But I had no idea then, did I?"

She managed a shaky smile.

"And I am glad to be your wife for this," she said, "Because I am going to be with you every step of the way."


	25. Chapter 25

January 2, 1974

Sometimes Carly couldn't believe the turns that her life had taken. She had thought, over a year before, that leaving Boston for Jasper had been life-changing, an earth-shattering event. Compared with her new life, Carly hadn't even scratched the surface of an earth-shattering event then.

She'd helped Hank slog his way through the complicated legal forms required to do a civil case of this magnitude. Being Hank, he'd figured out most of it on his own, but there had been many nights where Carly had stayed up and assisted him. Paul had also been a constant help, his presence and support of the case giving it as much weight as possible.

Once it had begun the case had been given quite a bit of media attention. Carly figured that this was due, at least in part, to the fact that the same people who had helped endorse the process were now widely declaiming what was happening. There were other prominent names who were denouncing the process's obstruction it as well.

She'd woken one morning to find the press camped outside of their house. Hank had warned her that she should expect such things, but it had been difficult to expect the sheer magnitude of reporters. Hank had given her a briefing on certain things to say, reviewing the case with her. She knew that he had been reviewing it for her sake as well as for his.

Hank had been away that morning, having gone to a meeting before the preliminary trial. Carly was supposed to follow him in two days' time after certain documents had gone through the local courts. Now she was looking at a horde of reporters, and she knew that the worst thing she could say in that instant was 'no comment.'

So she'd tried something daring. She'd gotten dressed in casual, yet still fancy attire. She'd applied little make-up and allowed her hair to flow past her shoulders. Carly had taken a long look at herself in the mirror, taking deep breaths and calming herself down. She made up a big batch of coffee and, since no one was out back, put it there along with as many mugs as she could find. Then she'd picked a pair of shoes, put on a coat, and opened the door.

The initial light of the cameras had been blinding. Carly put on the most collected face that she could muster, trying to seem friendly. Then she'd calmly gone to the back and invited them for a cup of coffee and a chat. She'd tried to make it as though they were just old friends visiting, and she hoped that they decided to treat it that way too.

At first many of them were just stunned. She'd put on the most honest and open face that she could and waited. Although she tried to seem in control, her palms were sweating and she felt as though she could faint. After a few minutes a reporter had tentatively taken a cup of coffee and began asking her questions.

The next half an hour had gone well. Carly had answered as many questions as she could. Then, citing the cold as the reason for her to go inside, she went back into the house. As soon as she had put the dishes in the sink she collapsed onto her knees, feeling as though she were somewhere between panicking and crying.

She'd called Hank and told him what happened. He'd been worried about her privacy, but she'd already realized that she wasn't going to have much of that. As both the first patient of the process and Hank's wife she knew that she was going to garner quite a bit of attention. She could comfort herself that she'd at least handled things fairly well.

And, to her surprise, she had handled things well. There were jokes about the coffee, but a few reporters took it as an honest attempt to have a conversation with the press. They could, it appeared, appreciate that. Carly took it as a learning experience as she joined Hank on the trial circuit, trying to make sure that she preserved that image as best she could.

There was, of course, negative press. There were scurrilous allegations about Hank abusing his position as her doctor, which Hank very calmly rebuffed by showing proof of when they began their relationship, citing that he was just friends with her at the time he was her doctor. While both admitted that they'd had feelings for each other during the process, they were able to show that they hadn't acted on them until after the procedure.

Throughout it all Hank received regular calls from Westchester. Alex had even come down once to visit with them. He'd admitted that he wasn't an expert on such things, but Charles, Moira, and he had been working on finding a few legal precedents that might help them. Sean had even thrown in some laws from around the globe and foreign cases. Alex had handed Hank a thick folder, wishing him the best of luck.

The case soon became known as McCoy-Baulson vs. State. While the real question was one of human rights, both names had become attached to it due to Paul's support and his co-authorship of the process. Paul's motives were completely pure, but having both names also helped show a unified front.

The news sensationalized it, and people were seen taking sides on it on both issues. The press came to interview the denizens of Jasper and Carly was pleased and touched to see how the citizens of their hometown said that Hank had never been anything less than an exemplary doctor.

As time dragged on Carly could see the incredible amount of stress that it was putting on Hank. Often times she felt tired and worn out, so she could hardly imagine how he felt. Hank was having trouble sleeping and sometimes she found him asleep at his typewriter, his head down from exhaustion. At times like that she merely put a blanket over his form and propped a pillow beneath his head.

The amount of coffee he consumed made her worried and she had the feeling that he was too strung out. There were nights when Carly would put away his work and force him to lie next to her in an early sleep, comfortable in a place where no one was analyzing his every move. Carly wished that she could do more, but Hank told her it was enough that she was there.

In response Carly always tried to be there. She forced herself to keep his hours and, whenever he was in court, she was there too. She formed his constant train, someone to show that he was supported at home. She could tell that he appreciated it, and it was worth all of the tired, restless nights.

When the Friends of Humanity got involved Carly could see the real bitterness beginning. They'd thought that they'd won the battle over the process. At first she had wondered if Hank's thoughts about having them involved was just a touch of paranoia on his part. As time passed she could see that he was probably justified.

The Friends of Humanity had helped hire the prosecutor to fight the case against Hank. Their representatives appeared on news programs, denouncing Hank as a sore loser who couldn't take it when his work didn't get through. Hank didn't watch the news programs anymore, and he avoided talk shows with them on it. Carly was glad. It wouldn't do his health any favors.

However, when Graydon Creed showed up at the State Supreme Court, the last court they had to go through before it went Federal, it was all that Carly could do not to scream. Hadn't they been plagued enough? Now the prosecution was citing Creed as an attaché, granting him access to the courtroom if not a voice. Carly watched as he came in, trying to will him to stop smirking.

She kept her face indifferent, determined that he was not going to intimidate her. No matter what, he wasn't going to affect the outcome. She kept telling herself that, telling herself that they couldn't possibly have bribed the judges. They couldn't possibly have enough money for that after all of the chat shows they had bribed their way onto.

In spite of, or perhaps because of, Creed's presence Hank did an outstanding job in court. He used eloquent speech and dismantled the argument against them piece by piece. Carly found herself mesmerized by her husband's voice, by the way that he could do more by explaining calmly than the Friends of Humanity could do with all of their threatening.

They waited as the judges deliberated. Hank was still in the court room, answering some questions. Carly had gone out to get dinner for him and Paul, seeing how the deliberations were going to take quite some time. While she was a public figure in the case now, everyone's eyes were still fixed on Hank and Paul.

She had just come back and been let in through security when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Now what is a beautiful woman like you doing on the mutant team?"

Carly froze, swallowing what felt like icicles. She turned around and saw Creed standing behind her, his expression thoughtful. Keeping calm she raised an eyebrow.

"That was, I think, not the right question," she said.

He frowned.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"Well," she said, "by asking that question you're implying that you don't know who I am. If you don't know who I am, then I don't think that you're very well acquainted with the case in question."

His eyebrow twitched in irritation.

"I know everyone I need to know," he said,

"I don't think you do," Carly said.

"No, I do," Creed said, "I think that you're exaggerating your own importance."

She rolled her eyes. As both the first, and thus far only, patient and Hank's wife she knew that she figured prominently in several reports.

"No," she said, "I am."

He sneered at her.

"Well go on then," he said, "introduce yourself."

Carl felt her mouth go dry before she continued. Where were all of these words coming from?

"My name is Carly McCoy."

Creed's expression became one of profound sympathy.

"I'm so very sorry," he said.

Carly took a deep breath.

"Excuse me?" she said.

"Well, it's bad enough having a mutant in the family," he said, "But having your brother make such a circus out of your legal system, well, it must be embarrassing."

Carly felt like laughing. However, another deeper part of her was offended beyond words. She clutched the bag of food in one of her hands, the paper crumpling. A strange assurance entered her then, making her stand taller and narrow her eyes. He was not going to allow him to bad mouth her husband in front of her. She might not be able to stop his foul mouth, but she would not allow it if she could help it.

"I'm not embarrassed," she said.

Creed opened his mouth but Carly kept talking.

"After all, I'm not the one who is helping block a process that will help give the blind back their sight because of old prejudices," Carly said, "I know, because I was born blind. And I can tell you that getting your sight back against all the odds is some sort of miracle. And you're keeping that from people."

Creed began to look angry, but Carly wasn't about to let him get a word in edgewise. He couldn't say anything that she wanted to hear.

"And furthermore," she said, "I'm not Hank's sister, which is something you'd know if you'd been paying attention to the case that you so widely denounce."

His frown deepened and his eyebrows furrowed. She leaned in further, her eyes narrowed.

"I'm his wife," she said.

Turning on her heels she strode out of the room. She joined Hank and Paul, making her excuses before beginning to eat. Creed entered the room, looking flustered. Paul frowned.

"Wonder what's up with him," he said.

"He mistook me for Hank's sister in the lobby."

Paul's face immediately froze.

"What?" he asked.

"My sister?" Hank asked, "I don't have a sister. Why-?"

"I said my name was Carly McCoy."

She sighed.

"And then he asked me if I was embarrassed," Carly said.

She hadn't meant to tell them, but the words came out before she knew it. She wondered if she was going to start making a habit of it. Hank and Paul stared at her.

"I then asked him what kind of man isn't embarrassed about keeping a project that will give the blind their sight back from the world," she said, "And that I wasn't embarrassed."

She took a deep breath.

"Then I told him that I was your wife. I think that he might feel a little foolish for not knowing that now."

She took another deep breath, her hands in her lap. She felt Hank touch her shoulder and she looked up. He was smiling at her, his expression that of awe.

"You are amazing Carly," he said.

She managed a small smile. An hour later the judges came back in, announcing their verdict on the case. It was being sent up. Carly couldn't help but smile as the Hank held her tightly. They had got what they wanted; it was going to Federal level. The decision there wouldn't be able to be overturned.

Carly caught Creed's expression from the other side of the room. It looked sickened. She smiled.


	26. Chapter 26

January 17, 1974

Focusing his weight on the balls of his feet Hank crept into the kitchenette and began brewing a pot of coffee. The hotel that Hank had paid for provided its patrons with something more like a small house than an actual hotel. It was complete with a kitchenette and a living room. It had to be large since he and Carly had basically been living in it for the past week or so, and they were likely to do so for at least another week.

The view of Washington's skyline was beautiful. Carly had walked in and stood on the balcony, just staring at the city before her. Hank stood behind her, gazing at the way a gentle smile lit up her face. Although their being there had been the result of something terrible, he could appreciate that smile.

He wondered if, when everything was over, he should take her to see the world. He could picture that gentle smile on her face as they explored Rome, as she watched Shakespeare, a tragedy of course, in The Globe. Twenty-four years spent shut away from the world was a long time, something that she was still making up for.

Though Hank had taken her many places, he hadn't yet taken her out of the United States. That was going to change. He owed it to himself and to Carly to take some time off. One way or another things were going to be sorted out in a few weeks' time. He didn't care if they lost and people saw it as running away or if they won and people saw it as decadence. He owed it to her to take her some place that she had only read about.

At the moment though Carly was wrapped up in her dreams. He knew that he shouldn't sneak out when she worked so hard to make sure that he got the right amount of sleep. However, there were a few things he needed to check on. He supposed that they could wait until morning, but it was difficult to sleep when there was work to be done.

The pot finished and he poured himself a cup. He walked into the living room. It was easier to conceal his noise because of the carpet there. Forms were scattered around on his desk, waiting to be reviewed. He looked at them for a moment before resting his hand on the chair and bringing the coffee mug up to his nostrils.

Hank inhaled, expecting only to breathe in the coffee's fumes. Instead there was a different tang in the air, one that was a distant memory but still poignant enough in his mind for him to identify it. He sighed before he took a sip of coffee. He'd need the caffiene. When he was finished he put the mug down.

"Did you break anything on your way in?" he asked.

Hank turned around. Magnetrix was sitting in one of the chairs in the hotel suite, her head tilted and her hands folded in her lap. She was wearing her uniform, but seemed in no hurry to move or attack. He had thought as much. Magnetrix never went anywhere alone unless she was delivering some sort of message.

"No," she said.

"Good," Hank said, "Although I'm reasonably sure that the hotel is insured in case of terrorist attack, you never know these days."

She shook her head.

"I'm not here for that," Magnetrix said.

"Evidently not," Hank said.

He waved his hand.

"Then what for?" he asked.

She licked her lips.

"To talk," she said.

Hank nodded and took a deep draught of coffee. He'd need it. He sank into the chair opposite her.

"Really," he said.

She rested her hands on the arm rests. Her green eyes looked Hank over as though she were searching for words, so dark that they were verging on black. He wondered where she'd gotten them from; he supposed that they were her mothers, although many of her other features had been donated by her father.

"I think that we can talk," Magnetrix said, "You haven't attacked me yet."

"You earn this consideration from me only because you haven't attacked first," Hank said, "Sean, well, you wouldn't find him, and Alex you'd have no chance. Especially if the rest are with him."

Alex would see her as a threat that he'd need to protect them from. The teens might be strong, but they weren't ready to face Magneto or Magnetrix alone. In the same way his own thoughts drifted to Carly, asleep in the next room, perhaps already stirring and wondering why he wasn't there.

The urge to attack was strong, but he smothered it with another sip of coffee.

"That's what I thought," she said.

She shrugged.

"I suppose that the only one that I'd have an equal conversation with is the Professor," she said.

"Then why don't you go have one?" Hank said.

"Because it's you I'm supposed to be talking to," Magnetrix said.

She moved to the edge of the seat, her hands folded together. He took another sip of his coffee, waiting.

"What you're doing is admirable," she said, "But you know that you're facing a lot more out there than the United States of America."

He nearly choked on his coffee.

"You're trying to give me advice?" he asked.

"Consider it a friendly word of caution," she said.

He snorted.

"It's been a long time since I considered the Brotherhood friendly," he said.

She nodded.

"I know," Magnetrix said, "And I know how this sounds. It may surprise you, but we want you to succeed."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Really," he said.

"Well, 'want' might be too strong a word for the sentiment of the rest of the Brotherhood," Magnetrix admitted, "but we don't wish you any ill will."

He snorted again.

"On this particular matter anyway," Magnetrix said, "But my father doesn't believe in mutant martyrs, which is why he sent me here."

He eyed her warily.

"You know that the Friends of Humanity are dangerous," she said, "I'm surprised that you've gotten a fair enough trial; bribing people the first time around must have seriously depleted their funds."

She tapped the armrest.

"But be careful," she said.

"I've been being careful for a long time," Hank said.

"Well be even more careful," Magnetrix said.

He rubbed his temples.

"Why the cryptic warning?"

She hesitated, and then set her face.

"We intercepted some intelligence that said that you could very well be a target for them," she said.

"I'd like to see them try," Hank said.

Magnetrix got to her feet. Hank tensed but she just walked to the other side of the chair.

"Don't be too cocky," she said, "You're one of the Professor's students, so I know you know how to fight. But that doesn't mean that you can defend yourself against an entire militia."

"I have people I can call for that," Hank said.

"Yes," Magnetrix said, "I know. I'm telling you to keep that number handy."

Hank shook his head.

"Why do you even care?" he asked.

"Why shouldn't I care?" Magentrix said.

She rested her hands on the back of her chair, gripping it tightly.

"You know that you're carrying the hopes and dreams of a lot of people, don't you?" she said, "This isn't just about being blind and getting treatment anymore. It's about a decisive strike for mutant equality."

"Equality," Hank said.

"Yes," Magnetrix said.

"Not superiority," he said.

Magnetrix hesitated again, and then she laughed softly.

"I have to believe that something is going to happen, don't I?" she said, "You might have been fighting longer than I have, but I know that I started fighting younger than you."

She flexed her fingers. The metal in the balcony doors moved, opening them. Magnetrix stepped through them, looking around her.

"I want good news," she said, "And I don't care where it comes from."

Magnetrix looked over her shoulder, her eyes hard.

"But don't get me wrong," she said, "I will not wait for it. And neither should you. Either of you."

She looked beyond him. Hank looked behind him and saw Carly standing in the doorway to the bedroom, looking confused. He turned back to Magnetrix, who nodded at him.

"Take care," she said.

Magnetrix hopped over the side of the balcony. Hank glanced won and saw her shimmy down the wall, her feet, finding the footholds. He closed the doors, knowing that there would be no point in alerting the authorities, although he didn't feel inclined too. She was already long gone if he knew the Brotherhood.

He looked back at Carly, whose lips were parted in a mixture of surprise and worry.

"Did she mean what she said?" Carly said.

Hank nodded.

"Probably," he said, "although I suppose that she has her own levels of truth, given the people she's been with for the past few years."

A stray thought blew through his mind that perhaps her father hadn't sent her at all, that Magnetrix had decided to come on her own. He brushed it away. It wasn't going to do them any good.

"So she was sincere," Carly said.

"Again, maybe," Hank said, "Which in some ways makes her more like her father; that sincerity lurking beneath all of that violence and hate."

He turned back to Carly, who looked doubtful. Hank wasn't entirely sure of his words himself. He knew that the green-haired woman was perhaps less like her father than he thought, perhaps more compassionate and willing to compromise, but he didn't want to think like that. He couldn't afford to.

Carly smiled at him and glanced down at the cup of coffee in his hand.

"I hope you're not thinking about finishing that," she said.

"Of course not," Hank said.

She gently pried the mug from his paws and put it down on the sideboard.

"Then come to bed," she said.

He smiled and put his arm around her shoulder, trying to banish Magnetrix's words from his head. He had more than just his own back to watch now.

"Of course," he said.

* * *

Daniel Crocker looked uncertainly at the men in front of him.

"She's always been a good girl," he said, "Never talked back, never stayed out late, never hung around with the wrong sort of people."

He could see the sympathetic nods around him.

"But…I suppose I can understand why she wanted the surgery so bad," he said, "And I would have forgiven her afterwards."

"Of course. It's natural for a father to forgive. And it was such a small thing."

He nodded. There was still a prickle of unease in the back of his head, but it was disappearing in the light of the conversation. They understood.

"But then she didn't come home," he said, "And I thought that she was just being stubborn. But then she wrote to tell me that she was marrying…that…that thing."

He spat the last word. He'd seen this Hank McCoy. The very thought of that monster touching his daughter with one of his claws was enough to make him feel sick.

"You mustn't blame her. Mutants have mind powers you know."

There was a chorus of mumbling. Daniel wasn't sure that that was Hank's mutation, but it would make sense.

"She can't know what she's doing," he said.

"She doesn't. It's sad it had to happen to your daughter, but sometimes mutants just find a way to destroy all the goodness in the world."

Daniel nodded. There was a pause.

"But…it seems like he does keep up a good appearance of caring for her, doesn't he?"

"She said he was her world," Daniel spat.

He'd seen the news channels, the mutant parading his daughter through a media circus. It was disgusting.

"Interesting."

A prickle of unease began again. He didn't like the tone.

"Meaning?" Daniel asked.

"Just that. Goodnight Daniel. I'm sorry for your troubles."

Daniel looked after Graydon Creed, the slight sense of unease continuing to spread through him.


	27. Chapter 27

January 27, 1974

"Did they set the date?" Alex asked.

"Yes," Hank said, "Five days."

He shifted the phone on his shoulder as Alex let out a low whistle. Hank smiled. He looked up, absently expecting Carly to be there. She wasn't; she'd gone out that afternoon for a walk. Carly wanted to see some of the sights, and he had paperwork to fill out. He still had an hour or two before she got back.

"That's fast," Alex said.

"It's not like these things come up all the time," Hank said, "And I think they want the media to get off their backs about it."

He looked down at his legal pad, filled to the brim with months' worth of jotting and scribbles. Alex laughed on the other end, but it was a nasty sound.

"If they'd done the right thing in the first place than you wouldn't be bothering them," he said.

"A lot of things should have been handled differently," Hank said, "But instead we have what we have."

"Yeah, always the optimist."

"Yes, well the government has bigger fish to fry at the time," Hank said.

"You mean that whole Watergate thing, don't you?" Alex said.

"Of course-"

A crash in the distance made Hank stop and frown.

"One second," Alex said.

He knew his friend had pulled the phone away but he heard him anyway.

"You break it you repair it with your bare hands! You'll be making tools like the cavemen with sticks and little bits of dinosaur teeth!"

Hank heard Alex snort.

"Sorry Hank, what were you saying?"

"It can wait," Hank said, "What was that?"

"Oh, nothing, it just looks like Clarice doesn't know what the hell a left turn is supposed to look like!" he yelled, "Left, left! That's right, the exact opposite of the way you want to go! You wanna crash or something?"

Hank rubbed his temples.

"You're doing the Blackbird simulation, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Alex said.

"I can call back," Hank said.

"No, it's okay. Just give me a moment."

He head Alex yank the phone away from him again, although every word was as clear as day.

"Nobody do anything stupid for the next twenty minutes or you're running around the Institute until your feet fall off! Got it?"

Hank heard the hasty chorus of agreement.

"Now then," Alex said, "what were you saying?"

"I'm saying that the case looks good," Hank said, "It was only undecided on a state level by two people who seemed uncertain rather than opposed. Besides, I think that the Federal level gives us a real shot at establishing a precedent."

"That's what Charles said," Alex said.

"It does sound like him," Hank said.

Alex laughed.

"You know he's really proud of you for doing this, don't you?" he said.

Hank closed his eyes for a minute and took a deep breath.

"It means a lot to hear that," Hank said.

"Well, he'll tell you it himself soon enough," Alex said, "David ran a temperature the other night so they had to go the hospital. Kid has a lot of fevers, but they say he's healthy enough."

He could almost hear Alex shrug.

"You know," he said, "if more people can change the world the way you're doing it, then maybe I won't have to look for a successor."

"We can only hope," Hank said.

Alex coughed.

"You know…you seem to have a real flair for this sort of thing," he said.

"It appears so," Hank said.

"Maybe…I dunno, do you want to do this again?" Alex asked.

"Have my work debased and my kind discriminated against?" Hank asked.

"No, of course not!" Alex said, "I just…politics. You know."

Hank paused. He wondered who had instigated this discussion at Westchester. At first he thought it was Charles, but that wasn't giving Alex enough credit. If it had been Charles's idea he would have broached the subject himself and Alex would have kept quiet about it. Hank thought for a while.

"I honestly don't know," Hank said, "I don't…I understand that I am a public figure now, that things are changing. It's been hard though, so hard, and you can't imagine the toll it's been taking."

Hank thought a little harder, his words ponderous.

"However," he said, "I…I can't help but feel…it feels right to be doing what we were taught to do, to fight for ourselves. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I do," Alex said.

Hank smiled.

"Perhaps. I'll have to think about it," Hank said, "I don't know if I'll do this, but I don't want to stay by the sidelines anymore."

He shifted the phone again.

"Besides," he said, "I can't let you have all the fun up in Westchester."

"Plenty to go around," Alex said.

There was another crash.

"You all had better start running before I catch you!" Alex yelled.

Hank heard the noise of scrambling feet.

"Sorry Hank," Alex said, "Looks like we're going to continue this conversation later."

Hank chuckled.

"So I hear. Don't be too rough on them," Hank said, "Better they crash the simulator than the actual plane."

"Don't I know it," Alex said, "But, like I said, they need someone to play bad cop. Now you go back to being the world's knight in shining armor-"

Hank grinned.

"-and I'll go back to chasing teenagers around the grounds. See you."

* * *

Carly sat on one of the benches in the park, her hands twisting a piece of paper her lap and taking deep breaths. She wasn't stupid. It was one thing that she had been confident of all of her life. She considered herself a sensible woman with a head full of book knowledge and the romances of forgotten eras.

It was why, the moment she'd suspected that she was pregnant, she'd gone down to a doctor's office. She'd done so on the sly; they didn't need this blowing up in the media. Carly didn't need Hank getting his hopes up either. Carly wanted to be certain. She'd hoped though, hoped enough for both of them, that the doctors were going to give her good results, tell her good news.

When she'd gotten the results she'd felt all brain function shut down. She'd clutched them in her hands on the way to the hotel. When she'd gotten to it she couldn't quite go inside though, so she went to the park right outside of it and sat down on one of the benches. The cold air seemed to clear her mind.

The results were positive. The only way that she could keep from crying in joy was because there was something deep inside of her that was far too happy to let any tears out. This was nothing to cry about. Carly closed her eyes. She was carrying Hank's child, had been carrying them for almost two months.

Absently she put her hand on her stomach. Was the child a boy or a girl? Mutant or non-mutant? Carly didn't know or care on either account, but thousands of questions were circling in her head. Where would the child go to school? Would they still be in Jasper, or should they move to a place with better schools, different places to raise the baby? Should they use the room to thier left or right as the nursery?

Carly brushed away the thoughts. She wouldn't be worrying about any of that for a while. Carly tried to picture a time to tell Hank. He was busy, but he would drop everything for this. The case was up for review in five days, but it seemed to pale in comparison to the baby. Perhaps the baby was a good sign that things were finally changing.

She opened her eyes and took in the snow-covered street. She should tell him immediately. He'd wanted a family, wanted things that he had denied himself for too long, too wrapped up in his own insecurities to reach out and take.

She felt good that she could give that to him, be the wife that he had needed and give him the child that he'd wanted. Carly had wanted children too, and now she was carrying one. She was going to have to be careful with what she ate and how long she slept, but for now the child was safe and sound.

Carly looked up at the hotel. She should go inside, but she felt like sitting for another moment or two. There was too much going on in her head. The chill wind was sharpening her thoughts, and the piece of paper seemed almost wispy in her hands. She stuffed it in her pocket so that both hands rested on her stomach, although it was still far too early for the baby to show.

Her father appeared in her thoughts and a twinge of sadness stole into her mind. He wasn't going to know his grandchild. Then again, Carly wondered if the child would change things. He might just scoff at the baby for having a mutant father, but the baby would still be his grandchild. Surely he would feel something for them. He wasn't unfeeling.

She turned her head. A few payphones stood a few feet away. Carly hesitated and looked around. No one was around, so she knew she'd have some privacy. She didn't know if what she was about to do was a good idea. However, if her father was going to have a negative reaction then she wanted it out of the way. Hank would receive the news with joy, and she didn't want that to be marred by having to listen to her father's hatred afterwards.

Carly swallowed before getting up. She punched in the appropriate numbers on the phone, her hands shaking. She knew that her voice was quivering when she asked the operator to connect her to her father in Boston. Carly waited, trying to get some sort of semblance into her words as well as determination.

"Daniel Crocker."

"Dad, it's me."

There was a moment when she heard her father draw in a deep breath.

"How dare-"

"Dad, shut up and listen!"

The words came out as a bark. Carly swallowed, touching her stomach for strength. If she could help it her baby was going to have a grandfather.

"I'm pregnant," she said.

There was another pause from the other side of the line.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I'm not," Carly said.

"Then why are you calling?" her father said, irritated.

"Because I want you to think very hard about what I'm saying," Carly said, "Think about what I'm saying, because I'm only going to say this once."

She could feel her hands continue to shake, but her voice was steady.

"I want you to think long and hard about this baby," she said.

"About my daughter carrying an abomination?" he snapped.

"Of course not, because this baby is a damn miracle," Carly said.

She could tell that she had shocked him. She'd never sworn in front of him before. Using the silence she plowed on.

"I want you to think about my child, your grandchild," she said, "I want you to think that you are going to miss out on this baby's whole life because you can't get past your preconceived notions. I want you to know that this baby will grow up without a grandfather, but they're going to be loved anyway, and they're going to be happy. I want you to think about how the only one who is going to suffer is you."

She swallowed.

"I don't care if you reject me, because I will always want to make things better. You're my father and you're angry because of my choices. I understand," Carly said, "But if you reject my child, then that's different. I will never be able to understand that. I want you to think about that, as much as you can. And when you're ready to tell me what you're feeling, only then, well, we're at the Walden Street Hotel in Washington DC, room 207."

The silence that followed stretched out far longer than any one before. Minutes passed and Carly wondered if he'd just dropped the phone and walked away, not even bothering to hang up. She breathed in and out, her breath coming out as pale clouds in the frigid air. Finally she heard her father sigh, his voice miserable.

"Carly-" he began.

She never heard him finish. A hand grabbed her from behind, yanking her away from the phone. She cried out and lashed out with her hand, but she was put into a headlock. Carly cried out again, but this time a cloth was put in front of her mouth. She tried not to breathe in, but after a minute she was forced to, her lungs screaming for air. Then she knew no more.


	28. Chapter 28

Hank glanced at the clock. Carly loved going out, but it wasn't like her to be more than twenty minutes late. He looked at the rack where his coat was and hesitated. He didn't want to seem as though he were shadowing her every move, but he couldn't help but worry. Surely she would understand if he went out looking for her.

The phone rang. He sighed in relief. No doubt she had stayed out a little late and was calling him. He picked it up, scolding himself for being foolish.

"Carly, you really have to give me more warning before-" he began.

"I'm her father."

Hank froze. He swallowed, trying to keep from breaking the phone. He did not want to talk to Daniel Crocker about anything, but he forced himself to stay civil. Carly still loved her father, despite what he had done. Hank had to be respectful, if only for her sake.

"I don't know how you got our room, but she's not here right now-" he said.

"I know and that's why I'm calling," Daniel said, his words a rush, "She had called me, wanted to talk, but then she…it wasn't quite a scream but it was something on the other end of the line."

Hank felt his blood chill.

"Where was she?" Hank asked.

"I don't know," Daniel said, "She…she was…she sounded scared and the phone just kept the sounds of a struggle coming and…she didn't even get a chance to hang up…"

Hank could tell that his voice was pleading. He began looking around the room, his mind racing in a million places.

"How long ago was this?" he asked.

He was surprised at how commanding his voice was. Perhaps he still had some of Beast within him after all.

"About ten minutes," Daniel said.

"Did it sound like she was outside?" he asked.

"Yes, I think so," Daniel said, "There wasn't too much noise though…"

Hank thought of the quiet park outside of the hotel that Carly loved. There were phones there, and it was conceivable that she'd stopped there on the way home and gotten into a conversation that would eat up her time. It made sense. He didn't know why she'd had the sudden urge to call her father when she'd told Hank that it would only lead to trouble. It didn't matter at the moment.

"I see," Hank said, "I know where that is. I'll go check right now."

"Should I call the police?"

"I'll tell you what I find," Hank said.

He hung up and shoved the door open. He raced down the stairs, his coat forgotten on its rack. The thought that he'd had a civil conversation with a man who part of him had always hated drifted through his mind. It didn't make any difference. Daniel Crocker might be full of hatred, but he'd still had enough love for his daughter to call Hank, to know that Hank hadn't been at fault, and to trust that Hank cared enough about Carly to try and find her.

Snow clung to his fur as he ran into the park that Carly often went to. He could feel the cold pounding at his skin, but he ignored it. He took a deep sniff of the air and looked over at the payphones. True to Daniel's word the phone was still hanging off the payphone, swinging in the air.

He bounded over it. For one of the few times in his life he was thankful for his feral senses. Hank took a deep sniff of the air, Carly's familiar and welcome scent drifting into his nostrils. It was followed by the sharp smell of adrenaline and fear, as well as the smell of a second party, and something Hank recognized as chloroform.

For a moment he could just stare at the spot. He could see where the snow was churned up from a scramble. His Carly had put up a fight. Of course she had. She wasn't the type who would just silently sit by while she was taken somewhere against her will. His eyes saw red and his breathing was erratic, breathing in the smell of her panic as she was attacked.

He tried to clear his mind, tried to get some semblance of order. It was an uphill struggle. His wife was gone, taken by someone who wished to harm her, and he hadn't been there. He had only been a few minutes away, but he might as well have been a million miles away for all of the good that it had done.

Hank continued sniffing the air, following her scent. To his dismay it ended in the street. A car had been waiting there. Hank pictured her being shoved into it, the car driving away. He looked around, hoping for cameras, for something in the area that would help, but there was nothing. Nothing at all.

He looked around, hoping for tire treads or something. Instead there was nothing, no traffic, nothing. They had gotten out of the area in a hurry, but nowhere near fast enough to attract any attention. They hadn't crashed, probably hadn't even run a red light. They were law-abiding kidnappers, and the thought made him burn.

Hank hurried back to the hotel, his heart thudding so loudly that it shook his entire body. Part of him said to call the police, but the rest of him screamed to call the X-men. The police weren't going to be enough. He would have to call them for formality's sake, but he needed the X-men. Still, he would call anyone who could help him. Carly was gone, vanished without a trace, and he didn't know if he could find her.

He reached for the phone, trying to calm down enough to see the numbers so he could dial. It would have been quicker to use the one in the street, but the thought that her hand had been wrenched off of it was enough to keep him from touching it. It was enough to keep him away from that park for the rest of his life.

Before he could reach the phone it began ringing. He picked it up. Daniel must have called back, out of his mind with worry. Hank couldn't blame him.

"I don't know anything right now, except that someone took her," he said.

"Good, that will make this shorter."

The chuckling, sardonic voice at the other end of the phone made his blood boil.

"Where is she?" Hank hissed.

"You know, I was half expecting a snarl," he said.

"Where is she?" he shouted.

There was a tsking sound on the other end of the phone.

"Safe, for now."

"If you harm her-"

"You'll do what?"

Hank dug his claws into his hand, his eyes seeing red.

"That's what I thought," the voice said, "Now then, it appears that this is the point in the conversation when you ask what you can do to keep her alive and unharmed."

Hank took a deep breath, struggling to remain calm.

"What can I do?" he said.

The voice chuckled.

"That's more like it. You can start by dropping your case."

Everything clicked in his mind. The Friends of Humanity. Of course. Who else would it be? His heart screamed at the thought that Carly was in their power now.

"After that," the voice continued, "I want you to make a very public apology. We don't need to embarrass you too much, just say that you found something faulty in your findings and that you are withdrawing in good conscience. That way we can all save a little face."

Hank breathed in deeply. That way he would be humiliated, shown as a farcical, whining doctor who had been fairly benched and his unsafe procedure sidelined. The Friends of Humanity would be in the right, battling a dangerous, delusional, mutant doctor from wrecking his havoc on innocent human patients.

"And then you can have your wife back."

He took another deep breath.

"But there are a few conditions to this generous deal."

Hank continued to listen, feeling the blood clotting in his fur as he dug his claws deeper and deeper.

"The first is that you don't contact the police. If you do that, and we hear, then she dies. Horribly, painfully, and slowly. Understand?"

He tried to concentrate, but all he was able to do was think about Carly in the hands of people who thought nothing of ending her life.

"Tell me you understand."

Hank gritted his teeth.

"I understand," he said.

"Good. Now, there's also a time limit. We want this settled two days before the case goes to court. We don't want any last minute deals. And for each day that you delay, each hour, well, let's say that it won't be so good for your wife. We're generous hosts, but we can get a little impatient, if you understand."

Hank swallowed, panic trying to overtake him.

"You seem a little slow on the uptake. Tell me that you understand."  
"I understand," Hank said.

"And you can't take it back, because we'll give her back to you only after you withdraw your proposal," the voice said, "And we'll be watching, do you understand Dr. McCoy?"

His name was said with a sneer.

"I understand," he said.

"Good," the voice said.

"Wait," Hank said.

He heard the voice chuckle.

"You're being awfully demanding."

"I just want to know that she's alright," he said, "Could you put her on the phone? Just for a moment?"

The voice paused, as if considering.

"Alright."

There were a few shuffling noises. Hank's heart leapt up into his throat.

"Hank?" Carly whispered.

Her voice was shaky.

"Tell me you're alright," Hank said.

"I am, I'm fine," Carly said.

Her voice was still shaky. He doubted she was telling him the truth.

"I don't want you to worry," Hank said, "I'm going to take care of everything."

"Hank-" she began.

"Because I wouldn't want you to worry," Hank said.

She paused. He wondered if she knew the terms of her release, and he knew that she was probably working out what was going on in his mind.

"I'm sorry Hank," she whispered, "Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night, give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine, that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun. Oh, I have bought the mansion of a love-"

"Cut the sentimental bullshit," the voice snarled.

He heard her cry in surprise, although it didn't seem to be a cry of pain. Hank gritted his teeth, but he knew that Carly had been trying to tell him something. She hated the tragedies and wouldn't talk about them unless she had to. He tucked away the information for later. He had to concentrate on what was before him.

"So, do you understand?"

Hank swallowed.

"I do," he said.

"We look forward to hearing from you Dr. McCoy."

The line went dead. Hank hung up and then immediately called the front desk to get the number of Carly's father. He'd called the hotel, his number was on file now. He called him, his voice calm.

"Someone's taken Carly. They say they'll hurt her if I call the police. But I'm getting her back."

He could almost hear her father begin crying on the other end.

"I never wanted her to get hurt," he said, "I…those men I was talking too…Graydon Creed…I shouldn't have-"

"Don't," Hank said, "just don't. I think they would have done this anyway. But I'm not letting them hurt her."

He heard Daniel hesitate.

"She told me she's pregnant," he said.

Hank felt his brain light on fire, the information burning along his synapses. They didn't just have Carly. They had his unborn child too now.

"I'm getting her back," Hank said.

He hung up and asked the operator to connect him to New York. He waited impatiently as the phone rang.

"Hank?" Alex yawned, "You might've forgotten, but it's one in the morning over here-"

"The Friends of Humanity have kidnapped Carly," Hank said.

There was a moment's pause.

"When did this happen?"

"Half an hour ago," Hank said.

"I'll get the rest of the team up," Alex said, "I'll be there in an hour. I'll call Sean, I think he's up there for a conference-"

"Just get here as soon as you can," Hank said, "Because when I find them, and I will, I'm not waiting for anyone."

He uncurled his fist, the blood still thick in his fur.

"And God help them if they've hurt her."


	29. Chapter 29

Hank's mind worked furiously as he went back to the park, a new snowfall clinging to his fur. He could barely smell her scent, but he wasn't there for that. It was just the location that he needed as a starting point. Any clues it would have been able to yield had been given up a long time ago.

He pulled a map from his pocket and began scanning the areas surrounding his hotel. They wouldn't have taken her far; they'd have been in too much of a hurry to get her away quickly. There hadn't been any tire treads on the street, so there was no hurry. There was little chance that they were far away. Hiding wouldn't be hard in Washington, the city was fool of nooks and crannies.

He thought back to what Carly had said. She'd never liked the tragedies. He'd never doubted her impressive command of Shakespeare though. Carly could probably quote _Romeo and Juliet_ in its entirety, even under pressure. However, she had picked that one quote in particular. Why?

Hank continued to look at the map and street names. It was an unfamiliar city to him. He'd only been there for the trial, to get everything sorted. Part of him knew that he should call someone else, anyone else, but he didn't have that option. Carly was running out of time. He didn't want her to be in their clutches for a second longer than necessary.

Nor did he want to give up the case. If there was no other choice then yes, he'd give it up for her in a heartbeat. Hank didn't want to think about the disappointment and sadness in her eyes when she'd learned what had happened, the shock waves that would travel through the mutant community. His wife was his foremost priority, but if he could gain the desired end without destroying everything he'd fought for then he would take it.

Besides, the thought of her and his unborn child in the same room as those monsters made his skin crawl. He had long fought with the more feral side to his nature, the beast within tearing at his mind. However, this time he didn't feel inclined to fight it. He needed to hold onto his more rational side long enough to find her. After that he wasn't sure that he cared.

His eyes fixed on one; Little Stars Street. He supposed that it was named for some strange ideal of bygone days. However, Carly's words echoed in his ears.

"…and, when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine," Hank whispered.

He tucked the map into his pocket. He took the subway, trusting it to be faster than running. Hank garnered a few strange looks, but he stared straight ahead. It didn't matter. He doubted that anything did at the moment. All he could think about was Carly, held by madmen and carrying his child.

The idea of being a future father would, under any other circumstances, sent him reeling and laughing from sheer joy. Instead he was faced with the prospect of losing both her and the child. It made him angrier. They were threating more than even they could have predicted. Hank had to grip the subway pole tightly to keep himself from screaming.

He got off at the closest stop. Hank kept his head down and ducked out of sight at the first possible opportunity. He used the fire escape to shimmy up the side of the closest building. Hank took to the rooftops, scouting the entire street. His feral senses were on high alert, looking for even the barest hint that he was right.

A few houses down a large house loomed up.

"A mansion," he murmured.

Hank watched for another minute. He had to be right. If he wasn't then he might as well have thrown time out the window. However, a moment later he saw a man wearing the Friends of Humanity t-shirt on get out of a car. He was carrying a box and knocked on the door. A slotted screen was pulled aside and they exchanged a few words. Two men ushered him inside. Hank could just make out guns hidden beneath their jacket.

As the door closed Hank's eyes narrowed. He couldn't get in through the front entrance: his appearence would garner too much attention. Hank got to the other side of the street and stood on the rooftop of the building. It was unguarded. They probably thought the only thing that would attack from there would be an aerial strike. They must have thought that it was unlikely. How wrong they were.

Hank pressed himself against the roof and took a long sniff. He could make out a multitude of conflicting scents; metal, sweat, blood. He sniffed further, searching, hoping that he was close enough to smell if Carly was in the building or not. If she wasn't then he would just go inside and beat the information out of the first person he saw.

However, the soft scent that he recognized as Carly wafted up to his nose. She was in the building. He closed his eyes for a minute. He wanted to rush in immediately, but a group of payphones caught his attention. The part of him that was still rational called to him, told him that he had to go and call for back-up. He gritted his teeth and shimmied down the side of the building. Keeping his back to the house that he knew held his wife he punched in the numbers for the phone in the Blackbird.

He'd been so proud for installing it, for allowing orders to be relayed into the air. Now he cursed himself for not making it faster.

"Hank?" Alex said.

"Yes," Hank said, "She's at 3456 Little Stars Road. It's a bit of a mansion."

"Are you sure?"

"I can smell her," Hank said.

"Alright," Alex said, "Just hold tight. We're in transit right now, be there in about an hour-"

"Not fast enough."

There was a pause.

"Hank," Alex said, his voice pleading, "Just wait. I'll speed. I'll push the Blackbird as fast as it can possibly go-"

"It's still too slow," Hank said.

"Just give me a few minutes!"

"Alex, she's pregnant."

Alex didn't answer, probably stunned into silence. Hank looked back at the building.

"I'll see you inside," he said.

"Hank-!" Alex shouted.

He hung up and looked at the building. Hank cracked his neck and began to climb up the side of a building. Once he reached the rooftop he began bounding towards the house that held his wife. They had no idea what they had unleashed when they had taken Carly away from him. No idea at all.

* * *

"Oh God," Alex said.

"What's wrong?" Scott asked.

Alex shook his head.

"He's going in there alone."

He could hear the shocked gasps from the rest of the plane.

"But it would be heavily guarded, wouldn't it?" Clarice asked.

"Yes, thank you for reminding me," Alex snapped.

He took one hand off the controls so he could rub his temples. He'd always been the one to try to go in alone and Hank had been the one to talk him out of it. It had saved his life more than once and taught him the value of teamwork. Now it looked like Hank was even more stubborn than he was, if it could be believed.

Alex glanced over at the map display. They were still too far away. He glanced over at the phone, contemplating the options. He wondered if Charles could contact Hank through Cerebro. He decided against it. Even if he could he wouldn't be able to stop him. The distance was too great.

No, Charles wouldn't be able to help. However, Alex knew someone who could. He had forgotten to call him earlier, he hadn't been fast enough on his feet in the ensuing chaos. No matter. That was going to change. He took one hand off the controls and began using the phone option. He just hoped he was still at the same address.

* * *

Sean rubbed his eyes as he picked up his phone. He had no idea who would be calling him. He'd finished his latest investigation, and he wasn't in the mood to do more. It was almost February, almost seven years since his wife and daughter had died. It was all he could do to hold it together as the month approached.

It was probably someone from Westchester. They all worried about him there, though he'd always struggled to put on a brave face whenever he'd talked to them. They still remembered the days, just as he did, when he'd shut himself away in his room, his loss too great to contemplate.

Years ago he'd thought that burying himself in work on the date, punching and shooting and kicking anyone in his way, would help assuage the grief that month caused. It hadn't worked. He'd taken to holing himself up as the day approached, trying to keep anyone from saying anything. He couldn't stand it.

It was only because he picked it was January that he picked up the phone at all.

"Sean Cassidy."

"Sean, this is an emergency," Alex said.

His voice was panicked. Sean immediately straightened. He was still an X-man at heart, no matter what had happened. They were depending on him, just like Sean had depended on them once upon a time. Going to Hank's wedding had been difficult, but he'd been there because Hank was his friend and a fellow X-man. He was family.

Now there was an emergency. He shifted the phone.

"Explain," he said.

"The goddamn FOH," Alex said.

His voice was angry.

"I see," Sean said, his voice tight.

"No, not yet you don't," Alex said, "Hank's wife, Carly, they took her."

Sean's eyes widened.

"When?" he asked.

"Forty-five minutes ago?" Alex said, "I don't know. They want him to drop his case."

"They can go to hell," Sean said.

"I agree," Alex said, "But Hank's lost his damn mind. He's given me an address, and he's going in alone. I'm not going to make it with the rest of the X-men."

"So he's just barging in there?" Sean said.

He was aghast. Hank was usually the calm and collected one in the group.

"Sounds like," Alex said, "And I understand, but it's a damn stupid idea."

Although Sean understood too, he couldn't help but agree with Alex. They didn't know how many Friends of Humanity were holed up with her.

"It gets worse," Alex said.

"How can it possibly get worse?" Sean asked.

Alex hesitated. Sean could hear the rest of the X-men in the back, buckling up as the Blackbird got ready to take off.

"Alex?" Sean asked.

"Carly's pregnant."

Sean froze.

"I don't think the FOH know that, but that makes it bad too," Alex said, "If they hurt her too bad…um…well…"

"I understand perfectly," Sean said.

He could feel his heart thudding painfully. He remembered when Maeve had told him that she was pregnant. They had been young and she'd told him with more than just a hint of trepidation. Sean had dropped to one knee immediately and asked her to marry him. He would never forget the look on her face, her beautiful hazel eyes glowing with her blonde hair, the way her smile had turned her lips up.

He'd never thought that he would be a father so young, but he'd loved Maeve so much. They'd gotten married quietly, the X-men their only witnesses since Maeve's father had all but thrown her out. Sean had been living at Westchester, training to be a combat teacher, but he'd found a small place off-campus for the start of their married life.

He could still remember the sonogram that had proclaimed that the child would be a girl, a mere two months after the wedding. He remembered Alex's teasing comments, Hank's smile, and Charles and Moira helping him prepare things for her. He'd been so happy then. Sean would have died for her, her and their daughter. He'd never gotten the chance.

Part of him still wished that Alex hadn't held him back, that he'd killed Tom. However, the fault wasn't Tom's. It was Sean's for leaving her alone. Still, he knew that he'd been only inches from killing his cousin. He wouldn't have cried any if he had. All of his tears had been reserved for his wife and unborn child.

His thoughts turned to Hank. If he lost Carly then it would be bad enough, but losing an unborn child made it worse. His thoughts began to focus and he set his face.

"I'll get down there as soon as possible," Sean said.

"Thanks," Alex said, "The address is 3456 Little Stars Road. Big house. That's all I know."

"I'll be there," Sean said.

He hung up and grabbed his gear before heading out the door. He'd been too late to save Maeve and his daughter from the car accident. There was nothing he could do about that. However, he could ensure that Hank never had to go through what he had. It was a thought to hold onto, to make happen no matter what the costs.


	30. Chapter 30

Carly couldn't help but feel fear creeping in on her. Her day had been a maelstrom of feelings, ranging from anxiety over her possible pregnancy, to joy, to speaking with her father, and now to being held with men who she knew would like nothing more to do than kill her because of who she'd married.

They'd tied her up and left her in a room. The chair was uncomfortable and her back hurt. Her hands were rubbed raw from when she'd been chafing up against the rope. Her ankles hurt as well, the rope cutting through the tights that she was wearing. Her eye stung from when one of the men had hit her and her lip was split. It had stopped bleeding though, and she was grateful that those were the only injuries that they had seen fit to inflict.

The room she was in didn't offer much in escape possibilities. There were no windows and only one door. The room was bare and there was nothing she could try to use as a weapon. There were a few chairs that matched her own, as well as a table. She could try breaking them, but that was only if she could get free first.

Carly shivered. The room was poorly insulated and the cold pressed in from the walls. Her coat had been appropriate for the weather outside, but they had taken it from her. They had taken her shoes as well, perhaps hoping that it would make it harder for her to run if she did manage to escape.

She shivered again. She hoped that Hank had understood what she'd told him. She'd only had a quick glimpse of where they were before she was shoved inside. Carly closed her eyes. She wanted him so badly that it hurt, and she couldn't imagine the pain that had to be going through his mind at the moment. The last thing she wanted was for him to give in, but he'd said that he would take care of it.

That meant the X-men. All she had to do was sit tight and wait for him. She couldn't get the ropes undone, she'd tried ever since she'd regained consciousness in the car. They hadn't been able to drug her properly. Carly wondered just how many people they'd kidnapped before. It was comforting, in a way, that she could very well have been the only one.

She had to get out of there. The X-men and Hank had to come soon. She had to tell him about the child that she was carrying, had to protect the baby as long as she could. Carly had seen who it was that had taken her. They wouldn't have any pity for the child of a mutant father and a human mother. She had to keep it secret, had to stop them from finding out.

The door opened. Carly looked up, swallowing. Graydon walked into the room, his hands in his pockets. Carly set her face and got ready.

* * *

"Jean, how's the ETA looking?" Alex asked.

"Twenty minutes," she said.

Her voice was worried.

"What?" Alex snapped.

"It's a further fifteen minutes for us to figure out where to land," Jean said.

Alex shook his head.

"That's too damn long," he said.

His frown deepened. He could see the skyline of Washington in the distance. The Blackbird had been giving it its all. He'd turned on the thrusters and tried to divert as much power to the engines as he possibly could. Even then it had only shaved a little of the time off. By his estimation Hank had already been inside for close to ten minutes.

That meant that there was ten minutes' worth of opportunities for him to get himself killed. Alex was sure that he would never understand love. He'd seen it his friends and their wives, and knew what it looked like. However, it had apparently made Hank forget all of his training in favor of a suicide rush.

He shook his head. He hoped that Sean had at least been able to reach the address.

"We're going to have to try to land this thing on the roof," he said.

"The roof?" Warren asked, shocked, "Won't that attract a lot of attention?"

"It's either that or stand by and let Hank get ripped apart by some racists," Scott snapped, "You feel like explaining to Carly that her husband is dead because we were worried about being subtle?"

Alex looked over at his brother. Despite himself he was impressed.

"Glad we're agreed," Alex said, "But there is a way out of this. No one has to notice us when we land."

He could feel their shocked gazes on him.

"We have a cloaking device," Alex said, "It won't last longer than an hour, but it'll work."

Alex knew that Warren's mouth was hanging open. He couldn't help but feel the sparks of teacherly indignation.

"You'd know this if you spent a little more time paying attention to the controls on the Blackbird simulation and less time crashing," Alex said.

He shook his head.

"Tell me when we get close Jean," he said.

"I'm on it," she said.

* * *

The upper levels were lightly populated. Hank continued forward, making sure that his steps were slow and even. He could smell the members of the Friends of Humanity. Their stink was heavy in the air. He could smell metal too, and lots of it. They had brought their guns. It wouldn't do them any good.

He moved down the hallway. He saw an armed guard playing a poker game. His lips curled into a snarl. There were only four of them. Barely thinking he leapt down onto the table, scattering the cards and poker chips. The table crumbled underneath him and the men were sent backwards. One had the presence of mind to go for his gun and get to his feet.

Hank grabbed him by the front of his shirt and tossed him into the air. The man cried out when he hit the wall, but Hank wasn't listening. He pounded into the other three members, feeling bones break beneath his fists. Hank picked up the only one that remained conscious after the beating and pulled him to his face.

"Where is she?" he snarled.

The man looked at him, his eyes terrified.

"Sec…second floor," he burbled, his eyes wide, "Third room. Graydon's in there right now-"

"What?" Hank roared.

The man cringed.

"They, they said somethin' about a warning-"

Hank roared and the man drew away.

"Please don't kill me. Please…"

Hank pulled his face closer. It would be so easy to snap his neck or slit his throat with his claws. However, he couldn't. Charles's words, his own morals, Carly's smile, it was all holding him back. He struggled for a minute, fighting the feral side of him that wanted nothing more to destroy the man.

"Know that I can kill you right now," he said, "But I'm not. Remember that!"

The man nodded frantically. Hank threw him to the floor, knocking him out. He listened for a minute, wondering if he had alerted any reinforcements. When no one came he continued his journey down the stairs. Carly's smell was becoming stronger, easier to follow. His lips curled into a snarl as he travelled further down.

They were not going to take her from him.

* * *

Sean's lungs were burning. He hadn't bothered with the transportation beyond the subway. He'd learned in New York that running on the street was often faster than taking a taxi. He didn't have time to worry about the Washington traffic. The snow was seeping into his shoes, but he figured that it just meant that the Friends of Humanity would be getting some water damage soon.

He looked at the building in front of him. He mentally checked the address. 3456 Little Stars Road. Sean looked at the house. It was big. He straightened his coat and walked up to the steps, trying to look as normal and reasonable as he could in the time that he had. He knocked on the door, trying to look bored.

A hatch in the door slid open.

"Who is it?" a voice demanded.

"Police," Sean said, "We've had some noise complaints."

The eyes narrowed.

"You're not in uniform."

"I'm plain clothes," Sean said, rolling his eyes.

The eyes continued to look at him with suspicion. Sean gave an exaggerated sigh and pulled out his Interpol badge. To anyone not thoroughly acquainted with badge vagaries it looked like any other badge. He held it up in front of him.

"Satisfied?" he asked.

The hatch slid closed. The man stepped forwards, beginning to close the door behind him.

"We're not making any loud noises-"

He was cut off when Sean punched him into the next room. The man's partner ran after him, but Sean stopped him with a quick uppercut to the jaw. With another blow the man dropped.

"Good old Interpol," Sean said.

He shut the door behind him and continued on, trying to be as quiet as possible.

* * *

Graydon looked at Carly, a small smile curling around his lips.

"You know, I did mean what I said," he said.

Carly waited, not trusting herself to say anything.

"You are beautiful," he said.

She glared at him. He laughed.

"No, I'm being honest," he said.

His voice was oily. Carly tried not to swallow, tried not to show her fear of the man in front of her.

"It boggles the mind why you would waste that on a mutant," Graydon said.

"I haven't wasted anything," Carly said.

He nodded.

"Of course you could say that."

He leaned up against the wall, his arms folded against his chest.

"You can make this all go away by denouncing him you know," Graydon said, "Get a divorce, go home and live a quiet life with your long-suffering father."

Carly blinked at him. Worry welled up in her.

"What do you know about my father?" she asked.

"Only that he's smarter than you when it comes to mutants," Graydon said, "But it's only in that respect. The man is a dolt."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Is there a point in this or are you just gloating?" she demanded.

Graydon laughed and detached himself from the wall. He walked over to her, giving her a long look. Suddenly his fist lashed out and she felt it connect to her jaw. Carly felt herself rocked backwards. The chair nearly fell, but Graydon caught it at the last moment. Carly clutched her hands together, feeling the two different sets of ropes keeping her in place.

"There's a point in everything I say," he said, "Try to think about that Miss Crocker. I know it's a tall order, but try."

"My name is McCoy," Carly said.

He smiled again. His hand lashed out and gripped her jaw, forcing her to look at him. The pressure from his fingers coupled with the bruise forming on her jaw exploded in her mind.

"Again, I thought you'd say that," Graydon said, "You know, you're almost worse than a mutant; a disobedient daughter who prostitutes herself to monsters."

Carly glared at him, momentarily lost for words.

"If it was a telepath or someone at least normal looking, I could almost understand," Graydon said, "But him? Really? Blue fur, yellow eyes, and claws?There's nothing even vaguely natural about him."

"No, he's completely normal," Carly said, "You're the unnatural one."

She was prepared for his fist even before it came. It hit her under her face and she couldn't help the cry that rose in her throat. He tilted the chair back to its original place and she rocked forward. Her head was bowed, her hair brushing against the tops of her knees. She looked up and saw that Graydon was looking at her speculatively.

"It's been almost two hours," he said, "And no press conference. We're going to have to bloody you a bit more."

She spat at him. He gripped her chin again, forcing her to look at him.

"Nothing too drastic my little mutant-lover," he purred, "But let's work on ruining some of that beauty. We'll discuss broken bones later."

Carly swallowed, thinking of the baby that she had just found out was growing in her stomach. She tried to force herself to calm down. He was just going to hurt her face. That was the one comforting thought that she could hold onto; at least the baby wasn't in danger. Not yet.

* * *

_**A/N: **Four more chapters to go. _


	31. Chapter 31

"No one's on the roof,"Ororo said.

"Good," Alex said.

He looked back at the rest of the X-men. All of them were making sure that their gear was together before the Blackbird landed. He knew that his team was going to do well tonight. They'd handled hostage situations before, and they weren't fighting anyone with powers.

However, this time it was one of their own who was in trouble. He didn't just need them to do well. He needed them to be perfect, and the way to do it was clear. This time bad cop was going to have to be benched.

"All of you," he said, "you met Carly."

There was a chorus of nods.

"And I'm sure you were listening in on my conversation with Sean," he said.

Alex could see the embarrassed glances that his team shared.

"No, no, I'd have told you anyway," he said, "It's something that you should know going into this situation."

He sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Listen, all of you," he said, "Carly is pregnant, alone, and they have probably hurt her. Hank went in alone. He's probably hurt too at this point."

Alex looked down at the rooftop and began guiding the plane down.

"And the thing is," he said, "you all know Hank as the kindly doctor, the pacifist. I know him when he loses it."

They shared more glances.

"Trust me when I say that he's formidable, and that there is a good chance that the Friends of Humanity are pissing themselves and calling for reinforcements," Alex said, "Which means that there's going to be more of them."

Alex flexed his fingers.

"I'm not trying to scare you, but you all know that frightened people get antsy, and that makes them trigger-happy," he said, "And you can expect them to be heavily armed."

He heard Jean take in a sharp breath.

"But whatever you do, keep calm," Alex said, "That's your best weapon right now."

The Blackbird landed. He felt the familiar thump of the wheels on the ground. Alex unbuckled and looked back at the team. Scott's lips were set in a firm line. His brother, no matter the state of the rest of the team, was ready. He could trust him to lead, just like he always could.

Alex glanced at the rest of them. Jean looked nervous but determined. Ororo and Clarice were calmer, Clarice's expression reminding him of his brother's. Warren looked rather nervous, but he could tell that he was calming down. They had done dangerous missions before. They would be fine.

He released the hatch, creating a walkway for them. Alex got up.

"Let's go X-men," he said.

* * *

Sean knew that he was having an easy time of it. There had been few guards on the ground floor. The ones who had been there were only casually armed. He'd been able to take out several with no resistance. He cuffed them for later with the zip ties that were in his belt. He didn't want to waste time, but procedure got to you when you'd been in Interpol for a few years. Besides, he'd need people to interrogate later., and he didn't want them attacking him

It was too easy, and that worried him. It wasn't a trap, they couldn't know that he was coming. Besides, no one was on any sort of alert. They didn't even have alarms on the building. He supposed that it had been a recent acquisition, just a base of operations where they could hide their hostage.

He hadn't seen any sign of Carly so far. He swept the rooms in the first floor, just making sure that no one was in them. Sean wished he'd kept someone conscious long enough to interrogate them, but he could do that on the second floor. The stairs were clear so he took them cautiously, trying to keep up against the wall.

He'd kept it quiet on the ground floor, so he didn't think that anyone was waiting for him on the second floor. No one ready for a full-scale attack anyway. He'd brought his guns and put silencers on them, but so far he hadn't used them. It surprised him. All he'd done was use his fists and feet, even using a lower frequency of his mutation to unlock doors.

It felt like he was younger, wearing a blue and yellow uniform as he jumped from planes and cleared compounds. Sean was surprised how easily it was all coming to him. He thought that he'd left it all behind when he'd left Westchester. Surely it couldn't be so easy to slip back into the skin of his teenage-self.

However, for the first time in years he felt as though he were facing a challenge with a clear head. He knew that it had something to do with the idea of fighting alongside Hank and Alex again, although he had no idea where either of them were. Hank's absence worried him, but it was a big building and he supposed that he'd found another entrance. If their target was the same they'd find each other eventually.

Another part of it, although it was painful to admit, was that he was saving the wife and unborn child of someone. Sean wasn't stupid; he hadn't been able to save Maeve and his daughter from the car crash because he hadn't been there. Deep down he knew that, even if he had been there, it was unlikely that he could have done anything.

Carly wasn't Maeve and the child wasn't his daughter. This wasn't a do-over of a situation that had left him alone and lost in the world. Sean wasn't stupid, although he longed for his younger, more naïve self, the one that had once been pushed down a satellite and learned how to fly. He missed him.

At the same time, he knew that what he was doing was a second chance in its own right. What had happened to him had crushed him. He knew what was going through Hank's mind, the fear of the worst. Sean wasn't going to let that fear be realized for his friend, and he didn't care what he had to do to make that happen.

He opened the door to the second floor. He saw a group of Friends of Humanity leaning against the wall, casually discussing a football game. Their guns were propped up against a wall and they looked relaxed. Sean got ready to attack, his body tensing as he looked for their weak points.

Another group member ran up, looking breathless.

"We're getting attacked on the upper levels," he said, "We have to get up there."

"What about Graydon?" one of them asked, jerking his head towards the door.

"He'll be fine," another one said, "There are guards further down. Let's go sort this out."

The group hurried off. Sean tilted his head at them and looked speculatively at the door. Graydon? He supposed that they meant Graydon Creed, their leader. If anyone knew where Carly was, it would be him. Sean closed the door quietly behind him and snuck up to the door. It was locked, but at the right frequency it clicked open.

He smirked to himself as he turned the handle, glancing in the direction that the men had fled. So Hank was on the upper levels was he? Perhaps Alex had arrived too. Despite himself he pitied the men who were going to fight them. They had no idea what was in store for them. No idea at all.

* * *

Hank had been shot at least twice. They were both superficial wounds. At close range someone had run out of bullets and decided that it would be a good idea to use his gun as a bludgeon. It meant that Hank had bruised ribs and his muscles ached. Blood dripped down his arm and onto the floor.

Not all of it was his. He was aware that his claws had slashed at a number of people. It looked as though someone had been slashing at them with knives. Hank had long known just how sharp his claws could be, how much damage they could do when enough force was put behind them.

The Friends of Humanity were mobilizing, their feet pounding on the floors. He wondered if they had some sort of radio alarm. The thought that he should try to find out occurred to him, but it was pushed down with a snarl. He didn't have any time to waste fiddling with that.

Another, much more alarmed part of his mind, knew that he was losing control of his mutation. Hank snarled out loud. It didn't matter. Carly's scent was becoming stronger, drifting through the blood, sweat, and the pounding of pain in his head. It was so close, but he still couldn't find her.

He wanted to scream. When five Friends of Humanity charged up the stairs he barreled into the first two, shoving them to the ground. He snarled and slashed at the third one. He heard the other two shooting at him, but he was too fast for their bullets. He moved until he was in front of the last two and shoved them down the stairs.

Hank jumped down the stairs, his feet landing on the last one. He ran up against the door and found that it was locked. For a moment he leaned up against it, breathing deep and feeling his sweat trickling down his forehead. He was still rational enough to think about the battles of the last few minutes, his heart thudding with pain and adrenaline.

He hadn't killed anyone, at least no one that he was aware of. There had been no straight-out deaths, no executions, and he hadn't bitten anyone. Hank had always felt that, when he resorted to biting his enemies, that he had gone too far. It was only a step from there to eating his kill.

His claws were always used for chest wounds, but he knew from experience that they didn't go deep enough to damage any organs, and his first instinct was to always throw someone away from him. The part of him that was still him cried out in relief. It appeared that he had enough control to keep from doing something that he would regret, that he was still more man than animal.

A minute later he heard what he thought was a cry from one of the lower floors. His eyes opened. Hank knew that voice. Carly. He dug his hands beneath the door frame and wrenched it from its hinges. He could feel his muscles straining, some other part of him saying that he could have just broken the door down, but his thoughts were fleeting, almost as though they were running in fear.

Another group of the Friends of Humanity flooded into the room. He threw the door at them and then charged into the fray. One of them had pulled a knife, but they weren't very good with it. He felt the urge to sneer at them as his shirt ripped beneath the impact. He elbowed the man in the stomach and kicked someone else.

He saw them smash into the wall and he directed his attention to the others. Once they were dispatched he hurried along, his breathing heavy and feeling the impact of the men's blows. He was so close, but he had waited too long already. He had taken too much time, and the idea of what could have happened , what could have caused her to cry out, forced him on. He wouldn't be able to stop until he saw her.

* * *

Carly was seeing stars. She could feel the blood dribbling down her lips from where his fist had made her teeth cut her lip. Her eye was swelling. She swallowed and tasted copper. Carly watched as Graydon stepped away from her, his head tilting from side to side, like an artist admiring his work.

"Not bad for the first warning," Graydon said.

She mustered a glare at him.

"But we must do something about your attitude," he said, "It's rather unbecoming."

Although she knew it was a bad idea she mustered up enough saliva to spit at him. He'd only hurt her face so far, and since he kept going on about it, she had the feeling that he would only target it. Sure enough she felt a stinging slap connect with her cheek. Her pre-existing bruises were aggravated and she couldn't stop from crying out.

Behind her the door creaked open. Graydon turned to look just when she did. A dark form barreled into the room, knocking Graydon to the ground. Carly watched as the figure began punching him, forcing him to his back and putting what looked like zip cuffs on him. He pushed his head into the floor, grinding it into the concrete.

"You have the right to remain silent, plus some others that I can't quite remember right now. So just lay there real quiet so I don't change my mind and do something I'll regret. You can call police brutality later."

He looked up. Carly nearly burst into tears when she saw Sean.

"Hey, it's okay," he said.

He walked up to her, making calming motions with his hands. She took a shuddering breath in when he took out a knife and started cutting her ropes.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm…I'm okay," Carly said.

"Carly, you can tell me the truth," Sean said, freeing her hands, "Sorry to tell you, but you don't look so good."

He began cutting the ties on her legs.

"I'm okay, besides the obvious," she said.

Sean got to his feet and held his hand out. She got to her feet, trembling.

"Just a little shaken," she said.

Sean looked at her for a moment. She wondered what he was thinking as he scanned over her, as though looking for more signs of injuries. He glanced over at Graydon, as though making sure he was unconcious.

When he was satisfied he turned back to Carly.

"I heard about the baby," he said, a small smile on his face, "Congratulations."

"How…my father told you?" Carly said.

"Alex told me," Sean said, "And Hank told him. I thought you told him."

"I...I didn't have time," she said.

Carly swallowed, her eyes wide. There were so many thoughts in her head, but she could only concentrate on one.

"Where's Hank?" she asked.

"Somewhere in here," Sean said.

He looked at the door that led into the hallway.

"Let's go find him," he said.


	32. Chapter 32

Almost immediately after they left the room bullets ripped through the air. Sean pulled Carly back inside. He glanced out, making sure to keep his head behind the door. Sean looked over at Carly once before glancing around the room. He nodded once to himself before turning to her again.

"I need you to get as far away from me as possible," Sean said, "And then I need you to plug up your ears as best as you can. Do you understand?"

Carly nodded. She hurried over to the corner and ducked her head, plugging up her ears. Her eyes, however, stayed open as Sean flung the door open. For a minute she saw the men, their guns trained on Sean. Then a high pitched-keening filled her ears. Although she had plugged them up as completely as she could, she began feeling a wave of nausea.

The men fell one by one as they each passed out. Sean stopped and turned back to Carly. He pointed to her ears and she unplugged them.

"You okay?" he said, "That one's a little difficult to control. It's supposed to make the inner ear canal boil to the point where you lose consciousness-"

"I'm fine," Carly said.

She put a hand over her mouth.

"Just need a moment," she said.

Sean nodded. She closed her eyes before taking a deep breath.

"I'm ready," she said.

He held out his hand and helped her to her feet. He looked outside of the door, checking for any more Friends of Humanity. Once he was satisfied he led her out, still looking around.

"Alright," he said, "first things first is that we get you out of here. There are a few pretty secret places that you can hide and we can find you afterwards."

"And Hank?" Carly asked.

"I'll come back for him," Sean said.

"But he'll be in here alone!" Carly said.

"Hey, no he won't," Sean said, "I'll come back for him, and Alex is on his way with the rest of the X-men."

"But that doesn't matter if you're not in time," Carly said.

"We're always on time," Sean assured her, "Besides, he'd want you out of here and safe. You're in no condition to fight, and, no offense, I really doubt you know how."

He was right. At the same time her husband was in there, fighting for her. Carly hugged herself, unsure.

"It's what he'd want," Sean repeated.

Carly took a deep breath before nodding.

"Good," Sean said.

Carly stared as he pulled out his gun. He looked at her, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Know how to use one of these?" he asked.

"No," Carly said.

"Ever even seen one before?" Sean asked.

"Not off of TV," Carly said.

"We're going to need to change that after we get out of here," he said, offering her the gun, "But for now we'll have to go with that. Safety's off, just don't drop it."

She stared at him for a minute.

"Put it in your pocket and don't fall," Sean said, "I'd keep the safety on, but not in this environment."

Carly swallowed before taking the gun and putting it in her pocket. She had no idea what she was doing. A year ago she had been stepping out of a taxi cab in the hopes of getting her sight. Now she was had a gun and running from her kidnappers, hoping beyond hope that her husband was going to be alright.

"Now we just need to-" Sean began.

A crash from upstairs made him whip his head around. Several Friends of Humanity slid down the stairs, moaning. Carly watched as a figure hobbled down the stairs, blood dripping from his arms and his shirt slashed. His breathing was labored and Carly thought she saw more blood dripping from a leg wound.

"Jesus Hank," Sean whispered.

Hank looked up and met her eyes. Something seemed to click in them and he let out a deep sigh.

"Carly," he whispered.

Carly abandoned Sean's side and rushed up to Hank. He all but collapsed in her arms. Carly took care to go down to the floor gently, aware of the gun in her pocket. Her husband was bleeding though, and all he wanted to do was hold her. She held him close, her hands cupping his face.

"Hank," she said.

Tears ran down her eyes and dripped onto his face.

"I'm fine," he said, "Really…just need to get back onto my feet."

One of his hands touched her cheek. She winced and his eyes widened.

"You're hurt," he said.

Something terrible passed over his face. Carly had seen a shadow of it on the night that the clinic had been attacked, but never like this.

"Who hurt you?" he demanded.

"It's not important," Carly said.

"It's important," he growled.

"Hank," she pleaded, "I just want to go home."

His eyes softened.

"Alright Carly," he said, "I…I was worried…"

"It's okay," Carly said, "I'm fine."

He took a deep breath.

"The baby?" he asked.

Carly wanted to ask him how he knew, but she couldn't find the words. Not now.

"Fine," she said.

She pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Everything's fine."

A cough made her look behind her. Sean shuffled from one foot to another.

"Um, sorry, but things aren't fine," he said, "We need to get out of here."

Hank nodded. He got to his feet. Carly put one of his arms over her shoulder, but he was too much for her to support alone. Sean hurried to his other side. He frowned as he took the bulk of Hank's weight onto himself.

"Geez Hank, are you a stressed eater or something?"

Hank chuckled, although Carly couldn't help but notice the confusion in his face. Carly felt confused too. Sean was still a far cry from the joking youth that Hank described to her, but there was something much lighter about him now. She shook her head, unsure where her thoughts were coming from or what to do with them.

They walked downstairs. Hank's steps were labored, but Sean and Hank both assured her that the wounds weren't serious. Hank had just exhausted himself trying to get to her. It was enough to make her want to cry. That and Carly could almost see the door out of the terrible place. She started to smile.

The sound of running footsteps made the smile die. She saw the Friends of Humanity rush in from all sides, cutting off the route to the door. More people came down the steps, Graydon in front of them. His face was a mess, more so even than Carly's was. At least she wasn't bleeding from being shoved into the concrete.

He sneered, making his face look like a mess of bloody flesh.

"Well, isn't all this quaint?" he said.

His eyes turned to Sean.

"You call yourself a policeman?" he snapped.

"Interpol you son of a bitch," Sean said.

Graydon narrowed his eyes.

"Well, you're quite outside of your usual beat, I'll grant you that," he said, "And I think you may be outside of your jurisdiction."

"It's the International Criminal Police Organization you moron," Sean snapped.

"I see," Graydon said.

He looked at Hank.

"Didn't I tell you what would happen if you called in the police Dr. McCoy?"

Carly felt Hank's grip on her shoulder tighten. She could feel the weight of the gun in her pocket. She reached for it slowly, her fingertips brushing the metal.

"Well, now we get the bonus of having witnesses to this," Graydon said.

He leveled his gun at her and Carly gripped the handle of her own. Graydon smirked as the rest of the Friends of Humanity took aim as well.

"I do wonder if your kind can feel anguish," Graydon said.

"I wonder if your kind can feel an ass-kicking!"

Graydon turned around and was blasted with a bolt of red light. Carly watched him fall, his chest sizzling and his eyes widened. The rest of the Friends of Humanity turned as Graydon screamed in agony, clutching at the burning flesh of his chest. Alex leapt down from the upper level, followed by the rest of the X-men.

Alex stood in front of Hank, red light glowing in his palms before he began flinging the energy out. Carly saw that Scott was already blasting a group of the Friends of Humanity at the stairs. Jean was making guns fly out of their hands. Ororo was fighting hand to hand, as was Warren, his wings flung out behind him. Bolts of pink light alerted her to Clarice's presence as she flung out crystal after crystal.

Alex sent out a blast of light and looked behind him.

"Sorry we're late," he said.

"Better late than never," Sean said.

He let go of Hank for a moment and kicked the nearest guard. A moment later Ororo had picked the guard up and flung him to the other side of the room.

"And it looks like there's one less friend for humanity," Sean said.

Alex cocked his head. Carly wondered if he'd noticed something different about Sean too. He tilted his head so he could see Hank and Carly.

"How bad are you two?" Alex said, turning to them.

"We're fine," Carly and Hank said together.

They paused and looked at each other. Carly managed a weak grin. Alex raised his eyebrows and shook his head before sending out more light.

"Well, hate to break it to you, but you don't look that way. Either of you," he said, "Not by a longshot."

"We need to get Carly out of here," Hank said.

"We need to get everyone out of here," Alex said.

He sent out another bolt of light.

"But right now we're knee-deep in Friends of Humanity," he said, "Give us a few minutes Hank, and they're not going to be a problem anymore. We saw upstairs. Nice job. There must be forty guys up there. You're a one-man wrecking crew."

"I feel wrecked," Hank said.

Carly looked over at Sean. He was staying close to them, trying to keep Hank on his feet and fight at the same time.

"I can take care of Hank," she said, "You go help them."

Sean hesitated for a moment.

"We've got a wall behind us and you two in front of us," Carly said, "We'll be fine."

He nodded before gently putting Hank on the floor. Carly brushed his forehead as Sean took his place beside Alex.

"You're losing a lot of blood," she said.

"Not really," he said, "I should be helping them."

Carly kissed his forehead.

"No," she said, "you should be resting."

Hank nodded reluctantly. Carly looked out at the rest of the fighting. She'd never seen all of the teens in combat before. They moved like a well-oiled machine, looking out for each other. Carly wondered if this was how Hank had spent his teens, being part of this machine with Alex and Sean.

As she watched she saw Graydon start to get to his feet. His flesh was still bubbling and popping. Alex had hit him with a powerful blast, although she knew that he could have easily killed him if he'd wanted to. To her horror she saw him pick up a gun and aim it at them. His hands were shaking, but he was going to hit them.

Alex and Sean hadn't noticed him. They were too occupied by the guards that were ringed around them. Carly took a deep breath and reached for her the gun in her pocket. She fumbled as she tried to fish it out, her hands trembling more than they ever had in her life. Hank was asking her something, but it felt like all of the noise had been sucked out of the room.

Using both hands she took aim. She could barely see and Hank's questions were getting louder and more alarmed. Graydon sneered at her, and she saw his finger go for the trigger. Feeling terrified Carly pulled the trigger. She watched as blood poured out of Graydon's forearm. He fell back to the floor, screaming.

Alex looked over at Graydon. He sent another bolt of light his way, burning his hands. He screamed again and Hank wrapped his arms around Carly. She looked up at him his gentle golden eyes. She sucked in deep breaths, trying to hold back her tears. He held her closer, one of his hands wrapped around her face.

"It's alright," he said, "It's over."

Carly looked around the room. The rest of the X-men had finished with the remaining members. Sean was handing out zip ties and a few of X-men had started tying the Friends of Humanity up. Alex kicked Graydon again before returning to them. She took another breath, and finally allowed herself to cry.


	33. Chapter 33

"I'd been looking into Graydon Creed for some time to be honest," Sean said, shrugging, "It just so happened that my investigation led me to this building. I called in my team and we took it, finding Mrs. McCoy in the process. We didn't even know that she'd been taken."

The SHIELD agent nodded. He knew the particular agent though from other incidents, knew the way he viewed him. It was a positive light, and Sean was grateful for that. The two had gotten together after several incidents and had a few quick conversations about what had happened. Nine times out of ten the story didn't involve any of the truth. It was better for the public that way.

He was especially glad that Phil was there that night. Otherwise things could get tricky. Sean wasn't in the mood for tricky.

"And the rest of your team?" Phil asked, taking notes.

"Went to do the paperwork," he said.

Sean threw up his hands.

"They just go and leave their superiors to take care of the mess," he said.

He jerked a thumb at Alex, who was leaning against the wall. He'd changed out of his X-man uniform, but continued to loom over the proceedings. No one could do menacing like Alex.

"Me and him, handling all this," Sean said.

"You have my sympathies," Phil said.

He looked over at where the police were loading the least injured members of the Friends of Humanity into their truck. The others were on their way to the hospital.

"And all the knife marks?" Phil asked.

"Knife marks?" Sean asked, "That's what they're calling them?"

He shook his head.

"Made by Hank McCoy's claws," Sean said smoothly, "He had been brought in by the FOH to see that they had his wife. When the fighting broke out he defended both himself and her, as I suppose any red-blooded American would."

"And the burns?" Phil asked.

"The burns?" Sean repeated.

"On Mr. Creed."

Sean shrugged.

"Cheap building, there was a radiator that exploded with hot water. Got all over him," he said.

He waved his hand dismissively.

"Just wait for him to wake up and start spouting stuff about a group of mutants attacking him while he was standing by all innocent," he said, "Of course, after tonight, no one's really going to take his innocence very seriously, are they?"

"They're not," Phil said, "And I don't think they're going to care very much for anything he says either."

He looked over at where Hank and Carly sat. Hank's injured arms were wrapped around Carly. Her head was tucked into the crook of his neck and her breathing was quiet. A blanket was wrapped around both of them, a kind but misdirected gesture of the paramedics to try and stave off shock. Sean watched Phil's eyes harden.

"Not after they see what happened to Mrs. McCoy," Phil said.

"My feelings exactly," Sean said.

With a small shrug he turned back to Phil.

"So," he said, "that's basically it."

"It does cover all the bases."

Phil shook his head.

"You're wasted on Interpol you know," he said.

Sean cocked his head.

"Don't go trying to recruit me for SHIELD now," he said, "One day I may take you up on your offer, and then where would you be?"

"In a better place," Phil said.

He looked around him.

"I'll tell Fury what happened here," he said, "and we'll deal with the rest of the clean-up. The brave defenders should get their rest. Their names, for reasons of security, will of course be kept out of the media."

"Just like always," Sean said.

"Although we will say how valiantly Dr. McCoy defended his wife," Phil said, "After all, the court case is in a few days, isn't it?"

Sean nodded.

"Everyone loves a hero," he said.

Phil smiled and tucked his pen into his pocket.

"Interesting little court case," he said.

"I wouldn't call it little," Sean said.

Phil chuckled.

"Of course not. You know, we've got a bet going back at headquarters about how that's going to work out," he said.

"And what side did you bet on?" Sean asked.

"Dr. McCoy's. I like to make a virtuous bet every now and then," he said, "Besides, it's a smart move to put my money on a friend of Sean Cassidy."

Phil looked over at Alex. Alex stared back, his gaze unflinching.

"And one day I think I'll ask how you've met such interesting people," Phil said.

"And one day I think I'll have to lie to you," Sean said.

Phil nodded and put out his hand. Sean shook it.

"Pleasure doing business with you," he said.

"Likewise," Sean said.

Phil released his hand and walked away. Sean went over to Alex, who raised his eyebrows.

"That's how police work is?" he said.

"Sort of," Sean said, "Beauracracy is an amazingly tangled mess at times. You'd be surprised how much people aren't told."

"And you agree with that?" Alex said.

"As long as it protects the X-men," Sean shrugged.

He leaned against the wall next to Alex. He let his eyes drift over to Hank and Carly again.

"They seem very happy together," Sean said, "I'm glad."

He knew his tone was slightly wistful, but there was joy behind it too. It had worked out for someone. Alex turned back to him and Sean sighed.

"You alright?" Alex asked.

Sean paused.

"Yes," he said.

The truth of it shocked him. That night had made him feel more alive, more alike himself, than he'd felt since he'd heard that his wife and daughter died.

"For the first time in years, I think I'm alright," he said.

Alex put his hand on his shoulder. Sean turned around.

"I'm glad to hear it," he said.

Sean managed a smile.

"You never really get over a loss like that Alex," he said, "Never."

"I know," Alex said.

Sean laughed, although it was forced.

"No, you don't. Not yet. You'll understand one day Alex," he said, "Just wait until you meet someone."

Alex shook his head.

"Yeah I'll get right on finding a girl who can put up with my hours, eccentricities, irritabilities, and attitude," Alex said, "Oh, and she has to be worth keeping too. I think I'll leave that sort of thing alone."

"Don't worry about it," Sean said, "There's someone for everyone in this world. Just look at Hank. He thought he'd never have what he has now."

Alex nodded. They both knew about what Hank felt about his appearance, the way he had shut away the world. Carly had brought it to him.

"And I'm glad it worked out," Sean said, "I'm glad that what happened to me didn't happen again here tonight. It's not something I would wish on my worst enemy. There's no real moving on from that."

He sighed.

"But maybe there is a time to be at peace with what happened, even if it still pains you," he said, "To try to move with it. I think I might have been a stone standing in a river for too long, immobile and ignoring the world."

He shrugged.

"Maybe it's time to let the tide carry me somewhere," he said, "See what happens."

Alex looked at him, a small smile on his face.

"Getting a little poetical Sean," he said.

Sean laughed.

"Yeah, maybe," he said, "But I think it's true. And I think…"

He hesitated. A lump had formed in his throat, but he struggled past it.

"I think this February I'm going to come back to Westchester," he said.

Alex's eyes widened.

"I think it's time someone put flowers on the grave," Sean said.

Alex shook his head.

"We always did," he said.

Sean swallowed.

"Thank you for doing what I was too scared to," he said.

"It's okay," Alex said, "You're coming back now, and we both know that's what she would've wanted."

"Yeah," Sean said.

He closed his eyes. For a moment he could see a pair of hazel eyes, fringed with shining blonde hair.

"Yeah," he said.

* * *

"Are you alright?" Hank asked.

Carly nodded. She snuggled deeper into his fur. It was soft and warm, an anchor in a world that was only now returning to normal.

"I'm alright," she said, "I wish you'd stop asking. You're hurt worse than me."

Hank touched her face, his knuckle barely skimming her skin.

"Yes, but I allowed these wounds to be inflicted," he said.

Carly tilted her head up to face him.

"I was scared," she said, "But…it's over now. It's alright."

"It shouldn't have happened," Hank said, his voice despondent.

"No," Carly whispered, "But you came for me."

She kissed his cheek.

"Thank you," she said.

He smiled.

"What are husbands for?" he said.

Carly smiled back. One of Hank's hands slid down from her shoulders to touch her stomach.

"How far along?" he asked.

"They said about two months," Carly whispered.

Hank nodded, his smile wide.

"Seven more months," he said.

His fingers splayed out against her stomach. His hand felt warm against her, even through the cloth of her shirt. Although Carly knew it was impossible, she hoped that her child drew as much comfort from it as she did.

"I can't believe it," Hank said, "A baby."

She put her hand over his, lacing his fingers with hers.

"I couldn't believe it either," Carly said.

She looked up at him.

"But…I only told my father," she said, "I hoped that it would…I don't know…make him change his mind. And he…he told you?"

Hank nodded.

"As soon as your phone dropped off the line he called me," Hank said, "I'll have to call him soon, tell him that everything is alright."

Carly smiled.

"Yes," she said.

She looked down at where Hank's hand was entwined with hers.

"Maybe our baby will have a grandfather then," she said.

Carly looked up at Hank.

"But, she's going to have a kind of grandfather anyway," Carly said.

"What do you mean?" Hank asked.

Carly just leaned further into Hank's shoulder. It was soft and warm, lulling her after the stressful events of the day.

"And a grandmother," she murmured, "And uncles."

"Carly, I'm still not sure what you're talking about," he said.

Carly gestured vaguely to Sean and Alex, who were talking as they leaned up against the wall. A thoughtful look spread over Hank's face. Carly sighed in contentment. He understood.

"Yes," he said, "Of course. How silly of me."

She felt his lips brush her forehead.

"She'll have a family at Westchester," he said, "And you're going to be a wonderful mother."

Carly closed her eyes. Before she let sleep overtake her she said;

"And you're going to be a wonderful father."


	34. Chapter 34

February 2, 1974

Hank raised his glass of champagne and Paul clinked it against his. Carly did the same, only hers was a glass of cider. Hank had told her it was bad to drink while she was pregnant, although he admitted that there wasn't too much evidence to back it up. Carly had acquiesced since she didn't drink much alcohol herself in any case.

Earlier that day the Supreme Court had declared overwhelmingly in their favor. Then they had gone one step further, stating that the 14th amendment applied to mutants as well as huans. It was a powerful declaration, one that Carly had only dreamed of. The expression on Hank's face was unforgettable, almost as though the world had suddenly shifted under his feet.

In a way it had. Not only was their process accepted, but it had been a victory for the cause of mutants everywhere.

"To scientific progress and the rights of man winning out against racists!" Paul declared, his voice slurring only slightly.

Hank smiled and sipped at his glass. Carly did the same. Paul drank it all down in one gulp. Thier friend was giddy with the success of their battle. Carly hadn't been able to blame him. He'd fought not to cry out in triumph in the court room, electing instead to do it on the court steps. Now he was giddy and dizzy with consuming too much of the champagne at the after party.

He stumbled on and Hank steadied him.

"Perhaps it's time you went to bed," he said.

"I'm fine Hank," Paul said.

"You're not though," Carly said.

"I'm fine," Paul repeated.

He stumbled again.

"Okay, maybe not quite," he said.

He shook his head and put his glass down.

"Then again, it's early morning on the second, so that means I'm going to bed before breakfast," he said, "My mother always told me not to do that."

He shook his head.

"Now I'm talking nonsense," he said.

"Do you need help getting to your room?" Hank offered.

"It's three doors down," Paul said, "I'm not that drunk."

He rubbed his forehead.

"But I'm going to have a terrible hangover tomorrow morning," he said, "I'm not drunk enough to not know that."

Paul headed towards the door, but he stumbled again. Hank caught his arm.

"I'm going to walk you there," he said, "No buts."

"Considering how I almost laughed at that sentence, I think that might be a good idea," Paul said.

Carly smiled and Hank gave her a sheepish grin. She waved them on as she put the glass down. Once they were gone she sighed in contentment. The sudden motion of her jaw made her face ache, and she touched it. The bruises were already beginning to heal, and no permanent damage had been done, but it still hurt.

She shook her head and sat down on the couch. She was quite tired herself. The strain of the pregnancy hadn't started yet, wouldn't yet begin for another month or two, but the day had been busy and crazy enough. Once Hank got back she was going to go to bed. Carly was excited, but exhausted.

Next to her the phone rang. Carly frowned and picked it up. The media didn't have their hotel number, and they'd already given an interview. They had already accepted their congratulations from Westchester, and Paul had called thier friends in Jasper. That didn't leave anyone.

She shrugged and cradled the phone by her head.

"Carly McCoy."

"Carly…it's your father."

She paused, her mouth going dry. Hank had contacted her father soon after they had been released from the police station. He'd hung up before Carly'd had a chance to talk to him. Hank had been angry, but Carly knew that it was just her father's way. He was scared, and he still needed to think on what she'd told him. He hadn't wanted to see her hurt, but he was still too confused about his own feelings to talk.

It had been alright though, in a way. She knew that he cared about her, that he hadn't forgotten that she was his daughter in his rush of hate for mutants. Once he knew that she was okay she knew that he'd been too scared to talk to her, perhaps worried about his own words with the Friends of Humanity, had wanted to give her some rest and himself some space before they spoke.

In the resulting days she hadn't thought about it much. Too much was going on. She'd been too glad to be back in Hank's arms, safe and sound. The world was moving around them, and she'd remembered the media rush trying to be the first to cover the story of her kidnapping.

Carly had told them exactly what she'd told the police officers; a lie. She'd left out the X-men, substituting them for a group of Interpol agents. The X-men had to remain a secret after all. They were family and Carly had been taken in, even if she wasn't directly involved. Carly wasn't going to be the weak link in the chain who revealed them to the world. Their secret was safe with her.

In all of that she hadn't thought much about her personal troubles. Now she struggled to speak.

"Dad," she said.

There was another silence. Carly wondered what he wanted her to say.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Carly took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"I was wrong," he said.

"Do you really believe that?" Carly asked.

"Yes," he said.

She heard him swallow.

"It was plain to me, when I told him…when I heard the report on the news what happened…he cares for you," he said, "I'm not sure how I feel about…about what he is, but I'll deal with that myself. It's nothing you should be concerned about. I'm sorry for...for making it into something."

Carly felt like crying. Hank came back into the room, shaking his head and smiling. When he saw the tears in Carly's eyes he stopped, his expression shocked. Carly waved to him, trying to show him that nothing was wrong. She mouthed the word 'father' to him, and he nodded.

He silently sat beside her, his hand on her shoulder. She nearly cried at that. Such casual contact. She could still remember the times when she'd yearned for him to reach out and touch her when she couldn't even see him. Carly remembered when she'd fought to have him accept that she wouldn't shy away from him.

So much had changed.

"And it's become apparent to me that…well…you're happy," her father said.

"I'm very happy," Carly said.

"I can tell," her father said, "And…well…I want you to be happy. And…you were right to stand up to me for your sight. I think that…I should have supported you more. And I…I should have been there for your wedding."

Carly managed a smile.

"You can be here when your grandchild comes into the world," she said.

Her father gave a sad laugh.

"At least I haven't missed that," he said.

"No," Carly said, "You haven't."

There was another pause.

"I'm not perfect Carly," he said, "And I ask you to forgive me for that. And…to forgive me the faults I make when I try to make things better."

"It's already forgiven," she said.

"You always were a kind one."

Carly felt a few tears trickle down her cheeks. Hank pulled her closer.

"I know it's late over there," he said, "I'll…I'll call you tomorrow. We can talk more then, can't we?"

His voice was hopeful.

"Yes," Carly said, "Of course we can."

"Goodbye Carly," her father said.

He paused for a moment.

"I love you."

"I love you too Dad," she said.

The phone on the other side went dead. She hung up the phone and leaned back further into Hank's touch. The top of her head brushed his chin and her back rested on his chest. His arms wrapped around her. It was warm and comforting to be where they were. She sighed heavily.

"Are things sorted?" he murmured.

"As close as they can be for now," Carly said.

Hank began to run his fingers through her hair.

"I'm glad," he said.

"I am too," she said.

She stretched. Carly wondered what else she should say, but there wasn't anything else for her to say. Hank knew her feelings, knew how happy she was that things with her father had worked out. Carly didn't want to dredge up old memories.

Carly yawned, her eyelids feeling heavy.

"It feels so good to be able to go to sleep knowing that there's nothing I have to do tomorrow," she said.

Hank hesitated. Carly looked behind her.

"Right?" she asked.

He tilted his head so his forehead touched hers.

"Have these pasts few months been terrible?" he said, "Besides what happened with…with Graydon."

She could hear the disgust in his voice when he mentioned Graydon's name. The question, however, confused her.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Have they been bad?" he said, "Are you sorry that we did this?"

Carly laughed.

"It was certainly busy," she said, "But…the result was worth it."

Her hand rested on her stomach.

"I don't know if our baby's will be a mutant or not," Carly said, "But, even if they aren't, we're making the world a better place. I want our child to grow up in a world where the blind might be able to see, a world that doesn't fear what's different. Our baby and other children."

She smiled at her husband.

"So no," she said, "I don't regret what we did."

Carly cocked her head.

"Why?" she asked.

He continued stroking her hair.

"Now may not be the best time to talk about it," he said.

"No, you brought it up," Carly said, "Tell me."

Hank sighed.

"I was thinking about maybe doing more of this sort of thing in the future," Hank said.

Carly's lips parted in astonishment.

"Not the Supreme Court," he said, "But…we have some publicity, some fame as movers and shakers. If we can use that, then we may be able to fight for mutants more effectively than I've ever done before."

His golden eyes looked down at her, his expression apologetic.

"I'm sorry for bringing this up, but I really feel that I could do something," he said, "That…I don't know, I could make a difference. Not one where I'm fighting, but one where I'm helping do some good in the world. I'll still continue to do medical work, probably some more projects with Paul and that sort of thing, but I'd become involved in politics as well."

He looked at her.

"I just, want to know what you thought of that," he said, "I know it's rather sudden, but I have been thinking about it."

Hank smiled, although the expression was unsure.

"I just want to know what you thought," he repeated.

Carly leaned her head in under his chin and closed her eyes. His words washed over her and, tired as she was, she couldn't help but feel them enter her and spread warmth throughout her. She curled her hand in the fur that peeked through the top of his shirt, trying to ground herself.

"Carly?" Hank asked.

She looked up.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I've upset you."

"No," Carly said, "You haven't."

She managed a smile through her tears.

"It seems like almost every day you surprise me," Carly said.

Carly touched his lips with hers. She pulled away after a moment, snuggling close to him.

"Be not afraid of greatness," Carly said, "Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em."

"_The Twelfth Night_," Hank said, "A comedy. Appropriate, but not quite perfect."

"Oh?" Carly said.

"Well, not perfect from my point of view," he said.

He touched her face.

"My bounty is as boundless as the sea," Hank murmured, "my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite."

"_Romeo and Juliet_," Carly said, "A tragedy."

She cocked her head.

"Which do you prefer?" she smiled.

Hank inclined his head.

"They're both good," he said.

* * *

_**A/N: **And that's 'Beauty and the Beast!' I've wanted to do a story that focused on the relationship between Hank and Carly since it's one seldom used. Carly only ever appeared in that one episode of the X-men cartoon series, and it was an intense one. It perfectly captured Hank's own insecurities as he struggled with his feelings and showed a love interest who was both strong and interesting in her own right. She was never completely developed, but I the show implied that they had gotten to know each other over a long period of time. _

_At the end of the episode, after she's captured by the Friends of Humanity, Hank leaves her and Carly never appears in the series again. I always felt that it was a wasted opportunity, so whenever I use Carly in my stories I try to develop her a little more and see about moving thier relationship along. I'm a bit of a hopeless romantic, so I always find it difficult to leave such unhappy endings, incomplete ones like the one given to Hank and Carly. _

_For those of you who have seen the episode, I made some other changes, such as Hank's political battle and the amount of time that passes between Carly getting her sight back and getting kidnapped. I wanted to show them coming together as a married couple, another thing that didn't happen in the episode. Although this story isn't in keeping with the movies I wanted this to be a kind of beginning to Hank's political career as well as a preliminary view of the X-men as both a group and a family. _

_'Beauty and the Beast' is the set-up story to a new series, longer than my usual trilogies. The Brotherhood is going to feature heavily in the next story, which will be titled 'My Father's Daughter.' It should come out in two weeks. _

_Now for my shoutouts! I'd like to thank Coyote Blues, whylime, Knight of Wings, and the ever constant Princess-Amon-Rae! See you all in two weeks! _


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